


All Rime, Some Reason

by Dresupi



Series: All Rime, Some Reason [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Relationships, College | University Student Sansa Stark, Contractor Theon Greyjoy, Crushes, Dancing, Dirty Thoughts, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Feelings, Flirting, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kissing, Lack of Communication, Light Angst, Love, Love Confessions, Margaery Tyrell is a Good Friend, Minor Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Minor Jon Snow/Ygritte, Minor Robb Stark/Margaery Tyrell, Modern Era, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oral Sex, Past Joffrey Baratheon/Sansa Stark, Past Ramsay Bolton/Sansa Stark, Political Intrique, Ramsay Bolton is His Own Warning, Ramsay is a Stalker, Ramsay's still psycho but he's not using it to kill people, Recreational Drug Use, Sharing a Bed, Smut, Stalking, Teasing, Unrequited Crush, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 99,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21851038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dresupi/pseuds/Dresupi
Summary: Sansa might be in her final year at University, but she finds that she can't handle everything on her own.She calls Theon for help and he comes to her rescue. First from Ramsay, and then to literally pretend to be her boyfriend so she can save face.How long before what's decidedlyfakebecomes real?Rime -n.frost formed on cold objects by the rapid freezing of water vapor in cloud or fog.Modern AU, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies AU
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark
Series: All Rime, Some Reason [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1770868
Comments: 262
Kudos: 358
Collections: Dresupi's Theonsa Fics





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First off, no that's not a typo in the title. _Rime - **n.** frost formed on cold objects by the rapid freezing of water vapor in cloud or fog._ It's a play on words. A bad play on words, but a play nonetheless. ;)
> 
> So this is a fic idea that grabbed ahold of me and I couldn't stop it. I never wanted to write something that included Ramsay. I never wanted to write something that ended up being full of Modern Westerosi Politics. I never wanted to have to google/youtube so many home improvement DIYs, but here I am.
> 
> I swear all I wanted was for Sansa and Theon to be together.
> 
> And this happened.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy it. 
> 
> I don't own any of this. It's all GRRM. I'm just playing with the characters. <3
> 
>   
> 

**SANSA**

* * *

She didn’t know who else to call.

If she called Jon or Robb, they’d turn this into a huge ordeal. Well, a bigger ordeal than it already was.

Right now, it was just _an_ ordeal. The culmination of several bad decisions and Sansa found herself without cash for a hotel room and unable to budge Ramsay Bolton from her flat. Her college flat that had been a gift from her father for buckling down and making the President’s list for three years in a row.

She had to get him out. So she called the only person she could think to call. The only person who had dealt with Ramsay in the past and likely would again. Possibly. Hopefully. Probably.

For all she knew, Theon could laugh and end the call. She wouldn’t blame him.

Ramsay was a shit, and he was cutting coke on her antique coffee table, which was why she couldn’t call the police outright. She’d end up in jail as well, and then she’d _have_ to call Robb, and Jon would be the one probably having to arrest her since he would probably respond to the call. And that, obviously, would be nothing but a bad idea.

Theon however, answered on the second ring.

“Sansa?” he asked, sounding surprised and a little bit like he thought this was probably a butt dial.

It wasn’t.

“Yeah, it’s me…” she answered, trying not to sound as forlorn as she felt.

“What’s wrong?” he asked immediately.

“Why do you assume something’s wrong?” she asked.

“Well, for one, you’re calling me and not Robb or Jon. And for another, you sound like someone just killed your puppy or something.”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that…” she replied. “It’s worse.”

The rest, she explained in what felt like one long breath, but Theon caught all of it.

“Oh, Sansa…”

“I know… it’s… it’s _awful_ , and it’s my fault for being so stupid--”

“No, no. You’re not stupid.”

Tears fell, against her will or because of it, she didn’t know. Sansa choked out a sob and shook her head. “I am.”

“Please don’t cry. You’re not stupid, you just got taken in by Ramsay. That’s what he does. What he did. I--” Theon broke off for a moment before speaking again. “Where are you?”

Sansa looked around the bathroom stall she was currently hiding it. “At the University library. In a bathroom stall.”

“At this time of night?”

It _was_ nearly midnight.

“It’s finals week. Library’s open for twenty-four hours.”

“And Ramsay is...?”

“At my place. As far as I know.”

“Okay. Listen. Sansa. Stay there at the library, I’ll be around shortly.”

“Okay… Theon?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Let me see what can be done first.”

She hung up with him, dropping her phone back into her purse and reaching around to flush the toilet for good measure. She hadn’t used it, but she assumed it was the polite thing to do when she’d been hogging the stall for the better part of an hour.

Sansa shouldered her bag and left the bathroom.

She was on the third floor of the library, and she went back to her ‘hiding’ place. It wasn’t really a secret to most students, but there would be no reason to think to look for her in the back of the third-floor bookshelves, back by the corner window.

Her phone buzzed about thirty minutes later.

“I’m outside the library, where are you?” Theon asked.

“Third floor, I can be down in a few minutes… what happened with--”

“I’ll see you down here, I’ll get out of the car so you can see me.”

“I know what your vehicle looks like, goober.”

He’d, of course, already ended the call.

Theon drove a pick-up that doubled as his work truck. It was gunmetal gray and had ‘No Rime or Reason’ printed on the sides. His business’s name.

Everyone told him it was a stupid name. Especially here in the North, where pretty much no one knew who the Greyjoys were or where they were from. But he argued that was precisely why it was a good name. A memorable name.

Robb had contended that you couldn’t tell what he did by reading the side of his truck, and _that_ was a mistake. What Theon did was flip houses. Sansa supposed he was technically a contractor, but basically, he bought houses on the cheap, fixed them up and sold them for a profit. That was house flipping in its entirety.

But, he was good at what he did, so Sansa supposed that the stupid name of his business aside, Theon was successful, and with that success came a steadfast inability to admit when he was wrong.

Sansa got up and made her way to the elevator, thinking that she’d very much welcome the sight of Theon’s pickup truck and ‘No Rime or Reason’ at that moment. The air was brisk outside when she exited the library, so she pulled her jacket a bit tighter around her shoulders as she walked across the sidewalk towards the student parking lot.

A loud whistle made her turn, however, and she squinted and saw Theon waving frantically at her from where he was standing beside a pitch-black car. She recognized it as Jon’s undercover police cruiser.

Panic bloomed fresh under her skin and her mouth hung open for a long second. She closed it and hurried towards him. “You complete asshole,” she hissed, swatting at him as he went to open the other door for her.

“That’s not very nice,” he countered, smirking as she swatted him again. “What have I done, other than ride to your rescue?”

“You know full well what you’ve done. You told Jon when I told you not to.”

“I didn’t tell Snow _anything_. I just borrowed his car, that’s all. He was parking me in.”

“You were _with_ him when I called?”

“Him _and_ Robb, actually. It’s our video game night. And I told neither of them a single thing. As per your wishes, Sansa.”

She eyed him suspiciously as he put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking spot.

“This is illegal, what you’re doing. Driving a police cruiser.”

“Oh stop it, Sans. When Jon’s in the drink, he lets Robb and I drive it all the time.”

“That doesn’t make it any less illegal,” she muttered. Sansa’s leg began to nervously bounce as they pulled off-campus but in the opposite direction of her flat. “Where are we going?”

“Well, since you let a psychopath cut coke in your living room, we’re going to the only fucking place open to make a few purchases and better secure your domicile, _my lady_.”

The Lannismart sign glowed in the distance. Her belly dropped.

“My card’s gone, though.”

Theon was quiet for nearly a full minute. “Sansa? Where’s your bank card, love?”

“Ramsay has it.”

He pressed his lips together angrily, clenching one hand into a fist before releasing it. “Okay, so job one? You’re calling and reporting your card as stolen. Get your phone, call your bank and do it now.”

She pulled out her phone and did just that, discovering it was a simple automated system after she confirmed her identity. During that process, Theon had pulled into the Lannismart parking lot and turned off the car.

He pocketed the keys and sat back in the seat. Sansa did the same, hugging her purse close. “I can call my father tomorrow and ask for more money if Ramsay’s taken it all. To pay you back, I mean.”

“It’s no trouble,” he assured her.

“No, but it’s stupid of me to have let him have the card.”

“Well, to the layman, _yes_ , but I also understand how demanding and scary Ramsay can be, so no. Not stupid.”

If anyone knew, she supposed it would be Theon. He’d run alongside Ramsay for about a year after he’d graduated high school. He’d called her father to help dig him up from the dirt, and Dad had done it. Made Theon feel like a complete loser in the process, but he’d done it.

Gods, she should have _known_ better than to keep letting Ramsay call her. She pressed both hands against her eyes as hard as she could, attempting to push every cringy decision she’d made over the past two weeks out the back of her head.

“Hey…” Theon’s hand was gentle as he tugged on her wrist. “None of that, we’ve got shopping to do, right?”

She took a deep breath and nodded, letting her hands fall from her face as she schooled her features enough to speak. “What needs to be bought?” she asked. Theon reached across her lap and opened her door for her. Something she could have done herself, but she recognized his non-verbal ‘hurry the fuck out of the car, please, I’m driving a bloody police cruiser and I’m nowhere near qualified to do so’ for what it was. They exited the car and Theon started walking briskly towards the front doors of the twenty-four-hour supercenter. Sansa fell into step behind him as he answered, rattling off a list. “New doorknob, new deadbolt, probably new locks for your windows. That reinforcing film that makes it harder to break the glass from the windows.”

“I need all of that, you think?”

Theon shot her a look and jammed his hands in his pockets, walking a bit faster towards the front door.

“What did you do, anyway?”

“Hmm?”

“How did you get him to leave?”

“Not important,” he replied.

“Um, yes? It sort of is? You aren’t hurt, are you?”

He gestured up and down his body before replacing his hands in his pockets. “Take a look if you want. I’m fine.”

“Theon…”

“Sansa?”

“Tell me what you did. And to whom.”

He stopped walking, turning to face her, catching and holding her gaze. “It’s nothing, alright? I promise. I assure you. It was nothing. Put it out of your mind. Come on.” He reached out and took her hand, holding it until they ended up inside.

His touch was warm despite the chill in the air and Sansa took it at face value. As a way to get her to hurry up and get inside the damn store.

A quick walk back to the home improvement department found all the things he said she’d need, plus a few tools as well.

“Don’t you have those things in your truck?” she asked.

“I do. But my truck’s back at Robb’s, and time is sort of the essence. Besides. You really should have most of these already. The fact that you don’t makes you a bad tenant.”

“Hey,” she said, a bit affronted. “I’m an excellent tenant, apart from somehow allowing my flat to become a crack den overnight, I’ve been a dream up until now.”

Theon smirked and shook his head. “You need them anyway. And I never got you a housewarming gift, so consider this as my attempt to make up for that.”

She smiled at that. Most of her housewarming gifts had been scented candles, or in her mother’s case, the antique coffee table that, last she’d seen, was covered in cocaine. Not _one_ of her friends or family members had offered her home security.

It was probably about as sweet as Theon Greyjoy got, so she’d take it.

Pushing the trolley while Theon tossed this item and that into the back gave her the opportunity to breathe. Something she hadn’t done in nearly two weeks. Not since she’d first been set up on that blind date with Ramsay.

Nothing had happened on the date. But apparently, that didn’t matter. He’d gotten his hooks in, and even though he scared her, she still did whatever he asked. Like a weak little nothing, not like the wolf her father had raised.

The memories were painful, so she pushed them into the darkest corners of her mind and concentrated on something else.

Namely, the way Theon’s jeans were slung low on his hips and how when he reached up for something on a higher shelf, his t-shirt rose and revealed about an inch of bare skin.

Sansa didn’t have feelings for Theon. She hadn’t for quite some time, and when she had, it had been a stupid crush that she hadn’t entertained since she was sixteen. Nearly six years ago. But, she had eyes. And Theon was handsome in a rakish, bad-for-you sort of way.

He only thought of her as a little sister anyway. Hence this entire escapade.

“I think that’s everything,” he stated, brow knit as he surveyed everything in the cart. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

He paid and they went back out to Jon’s car. It was the slowest drive ever back to her flat. Mostly because people kept recognizing the car as a police cruiser, even if it was unmarked, and driving the meticulous speed limit.

They pulled into her flat’s parking lot and Theon grasped her wrist to keep her from getting out right away. Once he was satisfied that no one was waiting there to ambush her, he allowed her to exit the car.

Her flat was on the second floor, so they had to go up a flight of stairs and walk along a short balcony breezeway to get to her door.

She was surprised to see most of the coke still there on her coffee table when they opened the door.

Theon groaned audibly and dropped the bags by the door. “Do you have an all-purpose cleaner? Like, a spray to clean things?”

“I think so, yeah?”

“Go get it, spray that shit and wipe it into a pile. I’ll get rid of it after I’m finished with this. Wash your hands well, okay?”

“I can do _something_ other than that,” she said softly.

“I know you can, but I’ve dealt with this before. You want every trace gone, okay?”

He stripped off his coat and rolled up his shirt sleeves, taking a screwdriver first to her doorknob and then to her deadbolt, replacing both in so quick a manner, that she had to wonder just how many of these he’d done before. Likely every single one in every single house he’d worked on.

“Come over here, close and lock the door so I can test it.”

She did as he directed and opened back up when he knocked. “You’re good.” He came inside, this time closing and locking the door himself. “Sans, I hate to ask, but… he didn’t… you know… did he?”

“What?” she frowned at him, confused.

“You said he was here. You weren’t _dating_ him, were you? You know… _dating_ …”

Realization dawned on her and she shook her head. “Oh, no. No, nothing like that. It never. I got set up on a blind date with him, didn’t realize it was him until I was already on the date… and he was so charming that first night… but no. It never went further than dinner. And you know… lending him money. And he showed up where I worked. And then where I lived. I mean…”

The more she spoke, the more befuddled she became as to why exactly she was in this predicament. She’d hadn’t slept with the guy. Hadn’t done more than eat dinner with him. Never even kissed him. Why was this happening?

She must have been going through a hell of a face journey because Theon reached over and squeezed her shoulder tightly. “Hey, you still there?”

Looking up into his eyes, she nodded. “Yep. Still here.”

“He fixates on people. He’s a psycho. It’s what he does,” Theon replied. “He did the same thing to me. He’s… he’s a shithead and he wants to get in your head and live there. You can’t let him, Sans.”

“Okay,” she said. “Okay.”

“Okay? Let’s get that table cleaned up, and then I’ll put film and locks on your windows.”

He flushed all the powder they found, and Sansa cleaned the entire coffee table from top to bottom. Her hardwood floor, she squeegeed and tossed all the towels and everything into a bag for disposal later.

Meanwhile, she heard Theon thumping around in her bedroom, and followed the sound to find him moving her desk from the window and installing new locks on the window frame. The film, he pressed onto the glass and brought the shade back down, turning around and jumping when he saw her.

“Sorry,” she murmured, apologizing as he scooted her desk back to the window.

“How many other windows?” he asked, pretending she hadn’t scared him.

“One in the bathroom and one in the kitchen, one in the dining area and two big ones in the living room.”

“Alright, let’s go, then.”

He went into the bathroom first, installing a lock on the frosted window over the commode and applying the film the same way as he had in her bedroom. He stopped after he’d finished, however, placing the leftover film on the counter as he started moving the things she had stacked on the lid of her toilet tank.

“What are you doing?” she asked, a bit alarmed as he took the lid off and balanced it on the closed lid of the commode.

“Just checking something. Back when I was… you know… he used to do this as an insurance policy.”

“Do what?” she asked, almost scared to hear his response.

Theon reached into the back of her toilet and emerged with his hand dripping and a small bag dangling from his hand. He pressed his lips together and nodded down to the tank lid. “Could you move that please?”

“What is that?” she asked fearfully.

“More of his stash. He liked to insure that whoever ratted him out would get the same charges as he would.” He ripped the baggie open over the toilet and flushed all of it down.

Then he walked to the sink to wash his hands. Sansa was standing there, holding the back of her toilet tank and watching as more cocaine swirled around her toilet bowl, finally disappearing down the drain.

“Put that back and wipe everything down with that cleaner you used in the living room,” Theon instructed. “I’ll get started in the dining area.”

She did as he directed, and washed her hands, only to meander back out to where he was. He’d finished in the dining room and moved on to the kitchen.

The kitchen window was the one Ramsay and his two accomplices had used to escape, apparently, judging by all her broken tea mugs and dishes on the floor. She sighed and started sweeping up the mess while Theon worked his magic on the windows.

“I want to thank you again,” she said, dumping the broken dish and mug pieces into the garbage and turning round to get an eyeful of Theon’s ass in his tight jeans as he bent in an awkward position over the counter to get the film on the upper half of the window.

“Is that all I get?” he asked, grunting a little as he straightened, stretching his arms over his head to stretch out before dropping them and walking past her to the dining room.

“What?” she asked, confused.

“Is that all I get, your thanks?” His eyes danced a bit, belaying his mirth.

“What else do you require?” she countered, crossing her arms in as saucy a manner as she could manage this late at night, and after the day she’d had. But with Theon, it felt almost effortless, falling back into their old ways. He was a pain in her ass. She was a thorn in his side.

“I’ll take a rain check,” he said.

“Rain check for what?” she asked.

“Dunno yet. It’s too late at night for me to think right now. Not much beyond getting this stuff installed before I leave, anyway.”

“You’re leaving?” she asked, panicking a little at the thought of being alone here.

“I have to get Jon’s car back to him. And then I have to get home and sleep? Unless you want to join me?”

“Yes, please,” she blurted, nodding as he turned back to look at her, peering into her eyes before nodding.

“Yeah, okay. Just follow me back to your brother’s while I return the keys to Jon. He’ll probably have passed out by now.”

“Passed out? Can’t you guys hold your drink yet? You’re adults. Supposedly.”

Theon laughed. “I can. Your lot never could. It doesn’t matter, anyway, Jon’s off on Thursdays, remember? Besides, I can’t get drunk like I used to on weeknights. I have work tomorrow.”

She glanced at the clock on the wall. It _was_ tomorrow. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“I will be, once we return this car and get back to my place.”

“I’m staying with you?” she mused aloud, even though that’s exactly what she’d asked for.

“Aren’t you?” he asked, laughing. “Your other option is to crash at Robb’s and explain to your sure-to-be-hungover brother why you’re there and where you came from, which if you do choose that route, clue me in on the lie you’re telling, so I don’t fuck things up, okay?”

She supposed she could ask him to simply come back here after he got his car, but there was something off about her flat tonight. She really didn’t want to be here. With someone or alone.

“I guess you’re right…” She pressed her lips together, watching his back as he finished up the front windows. “Is there a place for me to sleep at yours?”

Theon usually lived in houses he was fixing up while he worked on them and until he sold them. They were in all levels of disarray. It was a valid question.

“You could probably bring a blanket with you…” he replied with a shrug. Sansa went back to her bedroom and tossed a change of clothes, a pillow, and a throw blanket into an overnight bag. If Theon was admitting she’d need a blanket, she’d likely need a few extra things as well.

She also packed her toothbrush and toothpaste.

When she reemerged, he was just finishing up. “This is done, are you ready to leave?” he asked.

“Yeah, I am,” she replied, shouldering both her bag and her purse.

Theon smirked a little when he saw her bag. “Moving in, are you?”

“It’s mostly pillow,” she informed him, haughtily.

“Ah. Yeah, you’ll probably need one of those now that I’m thinking about it.”

She followed him out the door, and he used the new keys to lock the deadbolt. He handed them to her, and she quickly added them to her keyring while slowly following him to the car.

He doubled back and took her overnight bag for her, slipping one arm around her shoulders to hurry her along.

“I’ll drop you off at your car at the college, and you can follow me to your brothers’ place.”

“Okay,” she replied, her stomach twisting in knots as she fully realized what was happening right now. She’d spent the night with Theon in the room before. But never _just_ Theon. She needed to get a grip. She ducked into Jon’s car and Theon started the engine, glancing behind him before backing out.

The drive was again, longer than it needed to be, but it gave her time to think some more. “Is there anything else I should do?” she asked meekly.

“You’ll need to come back and deep-clean that entire flat tomorrow.”

She nodded. “Sounds like a job for eight-hours-from-now-Sansa. Not me.”

He chuckled a little at that as they pulled into the university parking lot nearest the library. She pointed out her car and Theon pulled in behind it. Climbing out of Jon’s, she got into her car, revving the engine before backing out and following him to Robb and Jon’s place.

Robb had chosen a house in a rather nice suburb once he could actually afford something back there. Before that, he’d lived at home all through University because while her parents loved him, they definitely didn’t trust him with a place by himself back then.

In retrospect, seeing as she’d had hers taken by a drug dealer, perhaps they shouldn’t have trusted her either. The sick flutters in her stomach multiplied and she took a deep breath to squash them down.

Theon idled Jon’s car, pulled his own truck out of the driveway, and then pulled Jon’s into its space.

He ran the keys inside and came promptly back out to climb into his truck again. His stupid logo glistened in the street lamps as he pulled into the driveway and turned around. Sansa did the same after he’d cleared out and idled in the middle of the road, waiting for her.

The place Theon was flipping was just a few streets over, in a slightly worse neighborhood. Not much worse, just slightly. And as Sansa parked her car behind his in the driveway, she glanced around, actually impressed. The house itself didn’t look terrible upon first inspection.

Well, the exterior didn’t.

The interior looked as if it’d survived a zombie apocalypse.

She stopped just inside, eyeing the blanket pile on the floor and noting that the temperature inside was the same as out.

“Theon, is there no electricity here?”

“Of course there is. The heat just isn’t working,” he replied, switching on the single lamp in the room to illuminate it. It had looked better in the dark.

Sansa decided not to make too big a deal out of it. She was only going to be here for a single night, after all. And it was infinitely better than being in her place right now. Her place that felt violated and tainted by Ramsay.

“Is there someplace I can brush my teeth?” she asked, placing her bag upon the sofa and rummaging inside for her toothbrush and toothpaste.

“Yeah, the kitchen.”

Sansa followed him there and stepped over a couple of power tools he had in the middle of the floor. He handed her a bottle of water and nodded toward the sink.

Realization sunk in immediately.

“There’s no running water?”

“Well, technically, there’s lots of running water. Unfortunately, it all ran down into the basement, so I had to turn it off. And replace the sump pump. Fixing the leak is Thursday’s job.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Don’t give me that look. I’m showering at Robb’s.”

“Why don’t you just stay there as well?” she asked, uncapping the bottle of water and applying toothpaste to the brush.

“Because this is my place, and I can stay here without worrying that I’m becoming a burden.” He reached for his own toothbrush while she was brushing, but waited until she was finished to use it.

Approximately two minutes later, she gave him a worried look. “Where do I spit?” she asked.

He laughed because it sounded more like “Air oo I pit?”

“Sink’s fine, just pour some water in to clean it out after.”

She spit into the empty sink and did as he directed. “You need running water, Theon, this is barbaric.”

He rolled his eyes and squeezed the toothpaste onto his own brush. “You’re the one who couldn’t stay in her perfectly refined flat. This is what I have to offer, so I’m offering it. I’m even going to let you sleep on the sofa tonight, princess. You’re welcome.”

“Wait, there’s no bed?”

“There’s no heating and you’re surprised there’s no bed?” he laughed and started brushing.

She waited until he was finished to respond. “You don’t have a bed.”

“I usually sleep on the floor.”

“You bring women to a place like this and they don’t run screaming back to civilization the second they see your weird blanket nest on the floor?”

He smirked. “Yeah, guess it’s that good, and they don’t mind a little floor sex. Of course, the women I bring back here aren’t as picky as you are.”

“Clearly,” she retorted with an arch of her brow. She sat down on the sofa, not even lamenting that she’d forgone pajamas because it was _that_ cold in the room.

There was no smart-ass reply to that. He simply crossed the room and turned on the space heater. It was a small comfort, but Sansa was happy to see that he wasn’t completely living the rough life.

She spread the blanket down on the sofa, tugging out her pillow and laying back to stare at the ceiling while Theon got situated on the floor.

He flipped off the light and they were both lying in the dark. As her eyes adjusted, she took in the room. It wasn’t half bad, the bones of the house. Of course, she’d only seen the kitchen and the living room. There was an entire upstairs, a bathroom, and she assumed a master bedroom that she hadn’t seen yet.

“Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“No problem,” he countered, sounding half asleep.

“No, I mean it. Thank you for all of it. For coming when I called and helping me secure my flat and for dealing with Ramsay and--”

“No problem,” he repeated. “Good night, Sansa.”

She swallowed thickly, bringing the blanket up as her teeth began to chatter.

“Aren’t you a Northerner?” Theon asked.

“Yes,” she replied, tucking her blanket all the more tightly around her to stop her incessant shivering.

“How is it that you’re not adapted to this weather, then?”

“I live in a finished home with heating,” she replied. “I’m not accustomed to sleeping in the cold like this. I can barely feel the heat from your heater.”

Theon sighed heavily, throwing back the blanket. “Come on then.”

“What?”

“Come down here. It’s warmer with two.”

She paused for just a moment, but the cold got the better of her, and she ended up joining him on the floor. He was right, it _was_ warmer with two.

“You’re to imagine a dividing line between us, though…” he said, once she joined him. “You stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine.”

Rolling her eyes, Sansa wrapped herself in the blanket she’d brought with her, and started scooting around to get comfortable.

Once she had, Theon sighed aloud, swatting at his face. “Your hair has broken the rules.”

“Not my fault,” she retorted, reaching back to sweep it out of the way and readjusting herself until she was finally comfortable. But once she’d done so, she felt her eyes growing heavier with every second, even with Theon griping about her moving around, and breathing, and _existing_ so close by.

She was just about asleep when a thought suddenly occurred to her.

“Theon?”

“Hmm?”

“You don’t think Ramsay would see my car here and cause trouble for you, do you?”

“No,” he said quickly. “And that’s not just because I was almost asleep. It’s because Ramsay doesn’t know where I live anymore, and that’s how I like it.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m positive. He’d have been more likely to hide in your car and follow you here that way.”

She could feel him cringe beside her almost as soon as he’d said it. And while she knew in the back of her mind that such a thing was nearly impossible, she knew why he was cringing. Because of what she was about to say.

“You don’t think he could have, do you?”

“No. No. Nope. Not at all.”

His words were too fast. He was placating her.

“Theon…” she sighed and rolled over to face him. “You said it and now I’m worried.”

“Worried? Sans, that is such a stupid thing to worry about. No offense. If he’d been in the back of your car, you’d have seen him by now. You drive a sedan. There’s nowhere for him to hide.”

“None taken, but think for a second. Would you put it past him?”

“Fuck it all,” he swore and threw back the blankets, rolling to his feet and cursing the entire way. “He’d be in the boot, that’s where he’d hide.”

He grabbed something by the front door that Sansa belatedly realized was a cricket bat and stomped barefoot outside in the cold. She ran to the door to watch him and realized that he’d been sleeping in his boxer shorts. Sans trousers, which were bunched up on the floor at the foot of the… ‘bed’.

He used her key to open the boot and she heard a loud thwack, which jolted her heart into overdrive, but then he just sighed and closed the boot, shouldering the bat and returning to the house.

“He’s not in there,” he informed her. “But that bag of potting soil you have back there has been dealt with, rest assured.”

She would have laughed, but she was relieved it wasn’t something more.

As he settled back down in the blanket nest, she spoke again. “You’ve got no trousers on.”

He got settled on his back, parallel to her. “No, I do not. I was going to sleep, you have a modesty blanket wrapped around you, and this is what I normally sleep in.”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me, I just thought I’d mention it.”

“Sansa, go to sleep.”

“It’s nearly dawn. How are you going to get any work done?”

“I’ll sleep until I need to wake up, and then I’ll wake up. That’s the good thing about working for yourself.”

“I would suppose so.”

“Gods, woman. Do you ever--”

“Good night, Theon.”

He sighed, and she had to stifle a giggle. “Good night, Sansa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me some sugar if you liked it! I'm a sugar fiend, y'all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Theon and Sansa wake up in a kind of embrace...
> 
> Arya and Robb catch them, so Sansa tells a lie and Theon backs her up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to treaddelicately for looking this chapter over for me, and squealing with me over all this cute. 
> 
> I feel like there should be a fluff warning, I had to stop writing in the middle of it and go take a walk, that's how fluffy it gets, y'all.

**THEON**

* * *

When Theon awoke the next morning, he was warm. Not uncomfortably so, but that cozy sort of warmth that only came from shared body heat. That was his first thought.

His second thought was that he couldn’t remember exactly who he’d brought home with him the night before. He knew it was someone, though.

Groggily, he started running through the events of the previous night: beers at Robb’s with Jon and Robb and then Sansa called, oh fucking hell. He came to the startling realization that the person currently pressing her backside against him was none other than Sansa Stark. She was clutching her pillow to her front and her long hair was draped across his face.

He’d mentioned the dividing line, hadn’t he? One or both of them were well over it.

He couldn’t rightly see which one of them had broken his very carefully laid out rules, but he wasn’t about to cop to it himself. And since it was _her_ hair currently impeding his vision, he wanted to say at least _some_ of the blame rested on Sansa’s shoulders.

He also couldn’t feel his left arm. Another point against her. He never caused his own arms to lose feeling when he slept alone.

He blew a breath, hoping to remove most or all of Sansa’s auburn strands from his face. They barely fluttered, settling back down like a net. He shifted slightly, not enough to jostle her, but enough to slide out from the auburn curtain impeding his vision.

Finally able to crack his eyes open, he spied the cause of his arm’s current predicament. Sansa’s head was pillowed on his bicep, effectively cutting off circulation to the lower part of the extremity.

Sighing, he let his head rest back on his pillow, and Sansa shifted, tossing her hair like a whip against his face once more.

Next time, she was braiding her hair.

 _Next time?_ He thought, bewildered by his own brain. There wouldn’t bloody well be a next time, this wasn’t… it wasn’t a _thing_.

He tried to yank his arm from under her head but found it was stuck fast. By what, he couldn’t tell, because of the placement of Sansa’s head. _And_ the rest of her, which was currently flush against his front, her warmth and her scent flooding over him suddenly and drawing attention to the fact that he was afflicted in other places, not just his left arm.

This affliction, thankfully, couldn’t be attributed solely to her. It was a normal one. Especially considering the nature of the appendage currently afflicted.

It was morning, this had happened every morning since he was thirteen. Usually, however, it never happened while snuggled against Sansa Stark. More specifically, against her backside. That wasn’t helping matters, now that he thought about it.

He could only assume Sansa would feel a somewhat comparable degree of grogginess upon waking, but he knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t likely be as retrospective as he was. In fact, she’d likely kick one of her long legs back to afflict him in a very different way if he didn’t handle the extraction of himself from her side with great delicacy.

The tablecloth approach would be the best method, he decided, taking a deep breath and whipping his arm from beneath her as smoothly as he could muster.

Unfortunately, the thing that was keeping his arm from moving before was the fact that his and Sansa’s hands had become clasped during the night, fingers intertwined and tightly held. Therefore, his ‘tablecloth approach’ only succeeded in flipping Sansa around to face him, dragging her face against the floor and waking her suddenly, nose to nose with him.

“Theon?” she mumbled, reaching up to rub her forehead. “What did… why… oh gods, why are we—”

He didn’t have any time to answer her litany of questions, however, because at that moment, a set of keys jingled in the front door and none other than Arya Stark pushed it open, her eyes going even wider as she swallowed back her surprise at seeing the two of them enveloped in what, by all outside accounts, could be seen as a passionate embrace.

What Arya was doing with the spare set of keys he’d given Robb, Theon had no clue, but there were other more pressing matters to be attended to first. He was at least thankful it was Arya who’d discovered them and not Robb.

Sansa’s mouth flew open and he reached for her with his good arm, clapping his hand over her just in time to muffle her cry of surprise.

They both must have looked petrified, because Arya’s evil grin disappeared and instead she called over her shoulder, “Robb, it’s weird. He’s not here. Maybe we should come back later?”

“What? Bullshit, his car’s here. And also… one that looks suspiciously like Sansa’s… Theon’s new bird drives the same car as Sansa, isn’t that funny?”

“Shit…” Theon hissed, rolling over and looking around for his trousers. He found them in the corner, apparently having been kicked down there sometime during the night. He reached for them, dropping them on the floor again because his blasted arm was still asleep.

So there he was, hopping around the living room in his boxers, trying to pull on his trousers with one hand.

Arya was saying everything she could to keep Robb from coming to the conclusion he was bound to come to.

And Sansa was just sitting there on the floor, frozen to the spot, being faced with telling Robb the truth. In fact, the only thing that got Sansa to jump up off the floor was Robb’s silhouette in the doorway. He stopped dead when he saw Theon. He let out a sort of a death rattle when he saw Sansa.

This was it. The end of his and Robb’s friendship. They’d had a good run, hadn’t they? Fifteen years or so?

“I thought you said he wasn’t here,” Robb muttered finally, directing his question to Arya, who looked between them with nothing but sympathy in her eyes. He brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Theon couldn’t see his eyes for the dark sunglasses that covered them, but if he had to venture a guess, they were likely bloodshot and dry.

“Trick of the light. The sun hit my eyes just so and I couldn’t see a damn thing. “You should get curtains in here, Theon,” Arya said, walking into the room and standing beside Sansa, who was practically shaking apart.

“I didn’t know you were bringing Arya,” Theon replied. “Thought you were bringing Jon.”

“He’s coming later,” Robb replied from behind his hand. “He was worse off than I was this morning.”

Theon changed tactics.“Or, at least I thought you’d be coming later in the day than—”

His phone was somewhere not on his person, so Arya supplied the time. “Twelve forty-eight.”

“Later than one in the afternoon,” he finished lamely.

Ignoring Theon’s unhelpful rambling, Robb turned to his sister. The one trembling in the middle of Theon’s living room. Not Arya. “Sansa, what’s —” Robb began.

“We’re seeing each other,” Sansa blurted, her eyes wide as she glanced over at Theon with something between a plea and a warning. More plea, though.

Theon blinked rapidly, freezing where he was, one leg in his trousers, and the other not. _What_ had she just said?

Her eyebrows knit and she bit down on her bottom lip. Her eyes were wide and watery and, and he was starting to think she had him wrapped around her finger the same as everyone else in her life because, for some idiotic reason, he was nodding.

“Yes, we… we’ve been seeing each other, and we felt it wasn’t something we wanted to go public with. To our friends and family…” he stammered, his gaze ping-ponging between Sansa and Robb

“ _Yet_ ,” Sansa finished for him. “We wanted to be certain it was real before we told anyone.”

Theon started coughing, choking on what she’d just said because he’d never had anything real in his life, and Robb knew it.

Robb was silent for a long moment, reaching up to yank off his sunglasses and step fully into the living room. He closed the door softly behind him and turned back to face them. There was a long, tense moment before thankfully, he broke into a grin. “It’s a good thing I caught you, then, because you’d be waiting forever for something real with Theon, Sans.”

Theon’s arm was finally at that painful pins and needles stage that meant he could move it, but with great difficulty, nonetheless, he pulled up his trousers and fastened them, something stinging more than the circulation returning to his arm

What Robb had said was the truth, but for whatever reason, it almost hurt his feelings in this instance. Or it would have if this scenario had any truth to it at all. But to Robb, it did, so it still hurt.

“You’re not… angry?” Sansa asked, and Theon thought it was a great acting job, honestly. Mostly because she wasn’t completely acting. There was a very real chance Robb could have kicked _his_ ass for fooling around with his sister.

“Angry? Not at all. I’m surprised. Because I thought you two… You honestly hid it really well, I must commend you.”

“Well, I mean—” Theon began.

“Honestly, Sans. I thought you were running ‘round with that Ramsay fellow, and I have to say, I’m vastly relieved to discover you and Theon are running round instead. The Boltons are a bad lot.”

“I agree,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

“I would, however, like to talk to Theon sometime. No reason. Not about this. Just about something else. Alone.” Robb pressed his lips together in the worst semblance of a smile Theon had ever seen, and it gave him pause.

Arya quickly reached out and grabbed Sansa’s arm. “C’mon, let’s go grab breakfast.”

“It’s well after midday, though…” Sansa objected, shooting a look of alarm back at Theon.

It was touching, she was trying to keep him from either receiving an ass-kicking or from hearing Robb’s pound-of-flesh talk.

He’d prefer the latter, and judging by Robb’s bloodshot eyes and dark undereye circles, he wasn’t feeling up to kicking Theon’s ass yet. So this was likely just the pound-of-flesh talk he gave to all of his sisters’ boyfriends.

“I could eat,” Theon replied, nodding slightly as Arya dragged Sansa from the room, leaving him there alone with Robb.

He took a deep breath and gestured to the sofa. “Would you like to sit down?”

“I would.” Robb sat down with a deep sigh that made Theon feel bad for springing this on him when he was obviously hungover. And then he snapped himself back to reality because this had been sprung on Theon as much as it had Robb. He’d have to have a talk with Sansa when he saw her again.

He wasn’t angry, though. He was surprised that he wasn’t. His life was a little too humdrum anyway, wasn’t it? In fact, he hadn’t had a woman over in a few weeks, so this could be believable. And call him an old softie, but he knew Sansa would have to come clean at some point. It didn’t hurt him at all to help her out for the time being.

Theon sat down on the opposite end of the sofa from Robb, waiting for him to speak.

“I honestly never thought you and Sansa would ever…” Robb chuckled a little and shook his head. “I mean, I guess we all saw the chemistry, but we never thought you’d get your shit together and actually… well done.”

“What?” Theon blinked, taken aback. “I, uh… well done?”

“Yeah… I mean. I thought it would be after she graduated, but if the universe wants it now, I guess—”

“Wait, you saw this coming?” Theon asked, raising his eyebrows so high they damn near flew off his face. “Because she’s your sister, man.”

“Yeah. And you had a crush on her when we were younger. High school for sure, and after that.”

“I did _not_ ,” Theon snapped.

“You don’t have to hide anymore, I might have been a little angry about it back then, but now, I’ve made my peace with it.”

“Made your peace with it _nothing_. You’re going to punch me, right here and we’re not going to talk about it anymore.”

Robb laughed and clapped his hand on Theon’s back. “No, no. I won’t be doing that. Not unless you hurt her.” He gripped a little more tightly. “If you hurt her like Joff did, or that Bolton guy would have, I’ll feed you the gravel in your driveway.” His voice took on a very serious tone when he was threatening someone’s life.

Joffrey’s name felt like someone hit him in the head with a cold bag of ice. Theon hadn’t thought about that little shit in a long time, and he didn’t want to ever again.

“I’d never…” he shook his head rapidly. “Not like Joff, or Ramsay, or–”

“Or any other elaborate way that’s true to a Greyjoy, either,” Robb added. “Just do well by her and that’s all.” He chuckled again. “Seriously, well done, Theon.”

“Thanks,” Theon said, his voice sounding hollow in his own head as he leaned back on the sofa for a long moment.

Robb kicked his foot, disrupting the blanket nest on the floor. “Can you move your sex blanket, please? You have company.”

“It’s not—” he stopped in mid-sentence and sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll move it.”

“Why aren’t you staying at Sansa’s?” Robb asked as Theon began folding all the blankets and stacking them neatly in the corner

“At Sansa’s?” Theon repeated.

“Yeah. She’s got the room. She’s not far from here. And she has heat. And running water.”

“I…”

“I don’t want to be the guy who tells you where to take your girl, but maybe swallow your pride and just stay at hers until this place is more inhabitable.”

It wasn’t like he’d ever have to actually _do_ this or anything. It was just for pretend. And he needed to get better at it if he didn’t want to give that away.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right…”

“I mean unless she doesn’t want you living at her place. In that case, shut me up.”

“Just tell me how,” Theon chuckled, and Robb abruptly changed the subject.

“Say, did you borrow Jon’s car last night?”

“Yeah, he was parking me in. I had to go meet Sansa. I could have just switched cars, but it was urgent.”

“At eleven at night?”

Theon glanced over at Robb, who mouthed ‘oh’ and pressed his lips together.

That obviously wasn’t what he’d done, but he knew it would shut Robb up. Because no matter how this whole ‘I’m happy for you’ bullshit seemed, he still didn’t want to hear about Theon boning his sister.

Theon didn’t even want to think about it, actually.

Not that it _wasn’t_ something he would think about. Or had thought about. Robb had been dead on with that all that former-crush nonsense. Emphasis on the former. As in high-school-former. He’d thought about it a _lot_ back then. So much that he really really hoped no one else knew about his past infatuation.

He definitely wasn’t crushing on his… fuck, he didn’t even know what she was.

_Friend, you idiot._

Right, right. She’s a friend.

A friend he _wasn’t_ crushing on, and a friend he absolutely wasn’t fucking last night, but her brother thought he was, and that was what he had to pretend. Fine.

“You didn’t do it in his car, did you?” Robb asked. “I mean… Jon still doesn’t know about any of this and–”

“No, no, no… nope. No.” Theon shook his head. “Nope. Not… we were–” He stopped himself before he engaged in fake locker room banter with Robb about his sister. “We were _not_ in Jon’s car.”

He bit down on his bottom lip and stared straight ahead.

“Not that I haven’t thought about it myself with one of my girlfriends or anything,” Robb said slowly. “But it’s you and Sansa, you know? And–”

“Robb. Man. I get it. Stop talking now.”

“Right,” Robb replied, hitting the ‘t’ extra hard.

Arya and Sansa had only been gone about ten minutes, and already Theon wished they were back.

Shit, what did he do when they got back? He had to act like a boyfriend, right? What would a boyfriend do when Sansa walked in? Kiss her? His mouth went dry as he silently panicked. Would he have to kiss Sansa?

Most likely. Boyfriends and girlfriends kissed on occasion. And some of those occasions happened in front of other people. And Theon himself was a pretty handsy fellow when he brought his girls to meet his friends. But should he be handsy with Sansa in front of her brother? Probably not, right?

Right?

If he didn’t touch her or kiss her, he should probably at least look relieved to see her, though. Happy she’s back?

Drowned God, this wasn’t even a real relationship and already he was putting more thought into it than he ever had before.

Robb had pulled out his phone, swiping around on the screen, so Theon took the opportunity to give himself a mental shakedown.

_Calm down. Just go with whatever feels right in the moment. It’ll be fine. You’ve seen a woman before. You’ve been with one. This is fine. The role you were born to play._

Not really. He was a shit boyfriend. But he could play-act as a good one.

He pulled out his own phone and pretended to browse around YouTube for what felt like the longest ten minutes of his life.

Finally, a car door slammed outside and he breathed a bit easier. Why, he wasn’t sure. More anxiety was about to walk through that door with fast food and he still didn’t know how to greet her.

He pocketed his phone and went to stand, the front door opening seconds later. Arya and Sansa entered with paper sacks full of what promised to be greasy hamburgers if the scent that had wafted in with them was any indication.

Theon smiled at Sansa, who smiled back at him a bit belatedly. He crossed the floor to take the bags from her. “Hey,” he greeted her, leaning in to peck her cheek. It felt natural, taking the bags from her, a peck on the cheek.

She leaned in automatically, but turned at the last second and caught his lips. He froze for a second, but it was long enough for her to tilt her head and slot her mouth completely over his. He had bags in each hand, so no way to back out without making it look like he was denying his girlfriend a kiss.

And honestly, when he felt the tip of her tongue brush against his lips, he didn’t want to deny her anything.

Fuck the food, fuck everything, he wanted more of this.

Of fucking course, she was a great kisser. Why wouldn’t she be?

Stirrings of something swirled in his belly. Something familiar and new all at once. Yes, he’d thought about this a lot when he was younger, but now that it was actually happening, it was better than he’d imagined.

She finally pulled back when Arya coughed from what felt like about six inches from his head. He’d forgotten that she was standing there. Right there. The three of them were crowded in the doorway, he and Sansa were actually blocking her entrance.

Sansa blushed crimson and pressed her lips together before muttering an apology. To whom, he wasn’t sure, but Robb was the one who answered.

“It’s fine,” his friend said. “Just let me get my food from Theon, and you can resume…”

“Gods, I thought you guys were faking it or something,” Arya exclaimed, clearly flabbergasted as she shook her head in astonishment. “But nope. It’s real. And it’s six inches from my face.”

Theon’s brow knit. “Why would we be faking it?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. But could you move, maybe? I want to eat sometime. You can resume sucking face now.”

“ _Arya…_ ” Sansa groaned, her hand coming up to cover her eyes as Arya shirked past Theon, grabbing the bags and walking with Robb out to the kitchen, leaving them alone. Finally.

Theon turned to Sansa, reaching over to tug her out onto the porch for a moment. He shut the door behind them. “What the hell was _that_?”

“You were coming in for a kiss, I thought–”

“On the _cheek_ ,” he said, sounding downright scandalized. “Just on the cheek! You were gone for twenty minutes, we didn’t need to make out in front of your brother, the gods, and Arya!”

“Oh calm down, it wasn’t that bad.”

He lowered his voice substantially. “Your tongue. There was tongue.”

“Geez, my bad. I didn’t know I would offend your sensibilities, good Ser,” she quipped.

_Opposite of offensive, actually._

He sputtered. “It doesn’t _offend_ me, I just… wasn’t going for that sort of–”

“I got it. Pure and chaste. I can totally do that. No worries.”

_Not sure I could._

“ _Sansa_ ,” he sighed, struggling for the right words and settling on some that didn’t exactly bely his feelings, but they worked nonetheless. “You didn’t even run this by me before you signed me up for this whole _charade_. Now, I don’t mind. I’m not… otherwise engaged at the moment, but just give me a little time. I can be your boyfriend, I just need to adjust.”

“I promise you, kind Ser, your honor will remain intact at the end of this fake relationship!”

A laugh threatened to bubble up, but he really needed to be firm here. “Hopefully my virginity as well.” So much for that.

She giggled. “I’m pretty sure I’m _weeks_ too late for that, aren’t I?”

He shot her a look. “Hey. _Hey_ , watch it, Hot Lips.”

“Hot Lips?” She waggled her eyebrows. “I _thought_ that was a good kiss.”

“Shut your mouth, you know it was,” he rolled his eyes and reached for the door. “Just keep those lips of yours to yourself for the rest of Robb and Arya’s visit. I think we’ve scarred them enough for one day.”

“Next time, I’ll just grab your ass.”

The slam of a car door startled both of them, Jon started to pour himself out of the driver’s seat, looking like death warmed over.

The next thing that happened quite possibly could have knocked him out of his socks. If he were wearing any.

He should have been expecting it. Sansa had warned him just seconds before after all.

Her hand cracked down on his right ass cheek and squeezed. He grunted and stumbled forward, his hands coming to rest on her waist while her other hand cupping his jaw so she could kiss him soundly on the lips.

Theon leaned into the kiss, reaching around to pluck her hand from his ass and refraining from giving her lips a playful nibble because fucking hell, she was groping him in front of _Jon_.

“Oh, so that’s happening, is it?” Jon asked, sounding very tired indeed as he climbed the steps onto the porch and shouldered past them to the door. “ _Finally_. Do you have coffee, mate?”

“Not made,” Theon called after him as he shut the door on them.

Sansa’s mouth hung open in surprise. “Why is no one as surprised as they should be?” she asked, obviously bewildered. “Not that I’m asking for a scene, but I dunno… a _little_ scene would have at least been understandable.”

Theon wasn’t in the mood to explain his high school infatuation, so he simply shrugged. “I dunno. I guess they’re just jaded by now. Or thankful I’m not–” He stopped talking immediately, catching her gaze briefly before reaching for the door.

“Joffrey?” she asked, laughing a little even though it in no way fooled him into thinking she was alright talking about that asshole. “He was a ridiculous mistake. I can’t believe they’re still…” she trailed off and shook her head. “I guess I have no room to judge them. Considering I still make stupid mistakes.”

“Sansa…” Theon reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing. “Come now. It’s not stupid.”

“Ramsay taking over my flat and me calling you to do… whatever it is you did, and then lying to my brother about it all by claiming that you and I are dating? That’s not a horrendously awful, sad, pathetic mistake?”

“When anyone lays out their faults in one sweeping statement like that, it’s going to be hard to argue against,” he began.

She reached for the door and Theon tugged her back. She was biting down on both lips and trying to look anywhere except at him.

“One day, I’m going to tell you every single thing I did because I wanted Ramsay to like me,” he said. “Truly, I’ll list them all. And you won’t feel bad about _any_ of this. But today’s not the day I do that. Because I have two hungover lumps and Arya in there to help me with some repairs, so I’m going to take advantage of it.”

“I can help too,” she offered.

“Two hungover lumps, Arya, and someone to hold a flashlight, then.”

She swatted his shoulder, grinning. “Hey. I’m more useful than that.”

“Prove it. Put your money where your mouth is.”

“Fine. I will. I owe you for last night anyway.” She stepped closer and wrapped one arm around his shoulder. “Just hugging you. So don’t go trying to snog my brains out.”

He wound his arms around her and felt her sigh against him. “Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure you’re the thirsty one here anyway.”

A loud _thwap_ sounded as she smacked his shoulder again.

“Thirsty. And a bit handsy. It’s okay. I like it rough.”

“Theon…”

“Sansa?”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

He hugged her a bit tighter. “You’re welcome, love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all. I'm thrilled by the response so far. Keep that sugar coming, pretty please? <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ramsay makes an appearance. But also Margaery. 
> 
> And #backstory. Mention of Joffrey and his assholery as well. And other things. 
> 
> SO MANY THINGS.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW, omg this chapter is a monster! Sorry/not sorry! 
> 
> Special thanks to treaddelicately for betaing this gargantuan mess for me. <3 And for listening to me yell about this fic for basically the entire week.

**SANSA**

* * *

Sansa arrived for her shift ten minutes early, which wasn’t normal for her, but she had some tea to bitch, so here she was.. Considering that’s what she and Margaery usually did _on_ the clock, it wasn’t too much of a stretch, regardless of the time.

The sense of urgency stemmed from the fact that Sansa actually _had_ something semi-exciting to discuss. She had poured over the pros and cons of what to tell Marg and what to leave out concerning the change in her relationship status, and the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to come clean.

She _had_ to tell someone. Why not someone who was only tangentially connected to the rest of her family? And who was completely in the know about Ramsay’s dickishness?

Sansa had basically decided to spill it all to Margaery today. It would probably feel better to tell someone. That, and she _never_ had anything interesting to share with Marg, she mostly just lived vicariously through her boss’s stories.

Margaery didn’t _own_ the nursery/greenhouse, but her family did. And she ran it. It was one of the first of the Tyrell-owned satellite garden centers in Westeros. Most were located in the Reach.

But this one did exceedingly good business up north, where greenhouses and glass gardens were basically the only way to get any kind of landscaping greenery. All the big box stores had a gardening department, but Tyrell’s took it one further. There was a personal touch from a family who had made quite the name for themselves in Westeros when it came to their green thumbs. Not only that, they carried certain strains and genus that weren’t available anywhere else.

Sansa had applied for a job when the sign had gone up outside the building construction, and she’d worked here for practically her entire college career. Plants weren’t something she excelled at, but she could appreciate the aesthetically pleasing sight of a huge fern in someone’s home. Even if she couldn’t take care of it to save her life.

“Ooo, you’re early…” Marg said, clapping excitedly. “That means you have something juicy. Tell me. What’s going on in your life? Give me crumbs. The drought I’m in can only be described as epic.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s nothing like _that_ , I assure you.”

“Even so, dazzle me. I’ve been yeeting dried up plants all day, I need something positive.”

“Well, I’ve sort of got a boyfriend.”

“ _What?!?_ You should have led with that, Sans. In matters pertaining to _this_ in the future, always lead with the boyfriend. Now… what sort of boyfriend do you sort of have?”

“Well, a fake one. I don’t really have him,” Sansa said with a small shrug, noting the disappointment in Margaery’s face. “Sorry to get your hopes up. But I had to tell someone the truth, the weight of the lie is starting to get to me. Also, I need someone to share all the WTF moments I’ve had with my family since announcing my fake boyfriend.”

“What’s his name? Did you pick something dashing at least? Where did you meet? Online, or does he go to another school?”

“None of those. He actually exists. His name’s Theon and I’ve known him since I was a girl.”

Margaery’s eyes flashed again. “Oh _wait_ , so he’s _real_? Does he know you’ve--”

“Condemned him to a fake relationship with me for the foreseeable future? Yes. He’s well aware of the arrangement.”

“Okay, I’m back in, this is worth the mental investment. Why are you faking your relationship, Dearheart?”

“Well, it wasn’t well-planned on my end…”

“Shocking,” Margaery deadpanned.

“But I sort of fell asleep beside him, and we were cuddling, and my sister and brother walked in and I sort of just… blurted it out.”

Margaery frowned. “I feel like you might be skipping a few crucial plot points here…”

“Okay, let me go back…” Sansa began. “Remember Ramsay?”

Margaery rolled her eyes. “That fucker.”

“ _Marg…_ ” Sansa peered around, making sure they were alone.

“Oh come off it, he _is_ a fucker. What did he do?”

“He sort of talked me into letting him and a few of his friends come over to my flat… and they started cutting coke on my antique coffee table…”

Margaery’s eyes bugged out. “Sans! He’s a double fucker is what he is!”

“Yes, well, I called Theon.”

“Wait, _who_ is this Theon?” Margaery asked. “You said you’ve known him since you were a wee child, but--”

“He’s one of my older brother’s oldest friends.”

“Robb, right? The cute one?”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “I suppose.”

Marg winked and leaned over on the counter. “Go on.”

“Okay, well, I called him because he has a history with Ramsay and I couldn’t call Robb or Jon because--”

“Because they’d flip, yeah, I get it,” her friend nodded.

“Right, so I called Theon and he came over straight away. He got rid of Ramsay and changed my locks on my windows and doors.”

“So he came over when you called? And saved you from the goat-fucker, Ramsay?”

“Correct,” Sansa replied.

“Hmm,” Margaery sniffed. “Sounds like boyfriend material to me… not just the fake kind either.”

Sansa ignored Margaery and continued. “So after that, I didn’t want to be alone, so I went with him back to his place. I should probably preface this with the fact that Theon’s a contractor.”

“Wait. Theon _Greyjoy_?” Margaery asked.

Sansa’s brow knit briefly. “Yes?”

“Oh, I know him.”

“You know him?”

“Yeah, he comes to me for landscaping plants. Never during business hours, of course, but he always pays upfront, so I don’t mind meeting him here early in the morning.”

Sansa had no idea Theon used this shop for his landscaping needs. He knew she worked here and everything, why not come by while she was here?

Her jaw set when she suddenly had a thought. A thought that would explain why he came here early in the morning without her knowledge.

“Are you two…” Sansa gestured vaguely.

“ _What_?” Margaery asked, looking shocked. “Oh no. Not that. No. He just wants hedges that won’t die within weeks of planting, and he keeps strange hours.”

“Oh, okay…” Sansa wasn’t sure why she felt so relieved but she did.

Margaery didn’t comment on it if she noticed, so Sansa continued.

“Well, anyway, he’s a contractor and he lives in the houses he’s renovating, so there wasn’t a bed. Or heating. And we ended up cuddling on the floor. Arya and Robb came by the next day to help Theon with some project and found us there together. Rather than come clean about why I was there, I lied and said we were together. He backed me up.”

“ _Interesting_ ,” Margaery said, dragging out different syllables of the word.

“I thought so,” Sansa replied with a shrug. A quick glance up at the clock revealed that it was officially past the time for her shift to start, and Margaery was reacting in a slightly different manner than she was expecting, and a change of topic sounded lovely. “So what do I need to do around here?”

Marg was silent for what felt like the longest moment ever, but she eventually spoke again, a look in her eyes indicated the discussion wasn’t over, but she answered Sansa anyway. “The sansevieria are finally ready to be repotted,” she replied. “You want to get started on that?”

Relieved, Sansa nodded. “Only if I can take one home… They’re the only bloody plant I can’t seem to kill, so I love them.”

“You have at least two already,” her friend laughed. “Or were you wanting one of the moonshine ones? Because I might have already potted two of the bigger ones and saved them back for us…”

“You read my mind, like always,” Sansa grinned and reached for her gardening gloves, ready to disappear into the back of the greenhouse for a few hours with naught but several dozen plants and piles of new potting soil to accompany her. “Anything else need repotting while I’m going to have my hands dirty?”

The front door of the shop jingled, interrupting Margaery’s response. Both of them turned to see who had entered.

Sansa’s blood ran cold and she actually took a step back, gripping her gloves tightly while Ramsay Bolton meandered up towards the counter. He took his time getting there, stopping to flick the leaves of this plant or that one.

It gave Sansa ample time to form a plan. Unfortunately, the only thing she could come up with was to flee. Immediately. But she knew that he would likely just follow her to a less public area and besides, she wouldn’t do that to Margaery.

“Hullo, Sansa,” he simpered finally, once he’d reached the front counter where she was standing with Margaery.

Her back straightened and she jutted her chin out, a side-effect of her mother’s influence because she absolutely didn’t feel like doing it at that moment. She didn’t feel strong, she felt used up.

Ramsay was like a vampire, he sucked all her willpower the second he got close and turned his attention on her.

“Ramsay,” she said, her voice crisp and cool, even though she felt like screaming.

“You’re a hard one to track down, did you know?” he said. “I went looking at the university library and I realized that your finals must have ended because there weren’t many cars in the parking lots. Since I haven’t been able to catch you at home, I had to settle for coming up here again.”

She hadn’t been so much dodging his calls as she’d blocked his number soon after Theon had changed her locks. Sansa wasn’t much of a dodger, she was more skilled in avoidance.

“Ever stop to think she might have been dodging your calls because she didn’t want to talk to you?” Margaery trilled from behind her. Sansa stood up a little straighter, remembering she wasn’t alone.

Ramsay turned towards Marg for the first time since he’d arrived, smiling in a way that dripped bitter saccharine. “You know, that thought _did_ occur to me, Ms. Tyrell. But you see, I left something--a piece of my property--at Sansa’s flat the last time I was there and it’s _rather_ important that I get it back. So if you’ll excuse me?” He turned back to Sansa, who noted the glint in his eyes. How it changed from sweet to sour in a second’s time. “I left it in your bathroom, do you if mind I swing by later when you’re home and pick it up?”

“It’s gone,” she said, fighting to keep the waver from her voice. She almost apologized, but then stopped herself. He didn’t deserve an apology. “We-- _I_ found it. Assumed it was garbage. Tossed it. Oops.”

Shit. Maybe he hadn’t noticed the slip-up. But like always, nothing registered on his face. There wasn’t a flicker of anything that would have prepared her for what came out of his mouth next.

“Well. Do give the boyfriend a call, so you two can give the place a once over and let me know if I left anything else. ‘Kay? You know how to reach me.” He turned back towards Margaery. “Good day. Lovely shop, Ms. Tyrell.” He turned back to Sansa. “And you, Sansa. Always a pleasure.”

He left, the door to the shop jingling when he exited, and with him, went every shred of courage Sansa had to her name. She let her gloves slip from her hands. She reached out for the counter to support her weight. “Oh gods, he knows. Marg, he _knows_. Did you hear him? He said ‘boyfriend’, he knows about Theon...”

Margaery came to her instantly, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “Oh, he doesn’t know _anything_.”

“What?” Sansa asked, bewildered in her misery.

Marg scoffed. “Listen. I’ve known Ramsay Boltons my entire life. He’s just really good at picking up context clues. He guessed boyfriend, but as far as he knows, you could have been referring to Robb or your dad, or _me_ , for that matter. You gave him nothing other than someone helped you clean up after he left. It could be anyone.”

Sansa took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Maybe it _was_ that simple? Could it be?

Possibly, if she knew exactly what Theon had done to make Ramsay leave her place that night. Because hell, if he’d seen Theon there, then all of this would be moot, wouldn’t it?

But he must not have seen anyone. Which only brought up more questions instead. She’d have to talk to Theon again. Tell him it really _did_ matter what he’d done because if they were going to pull this off, they’d need to present a united front.

She’d call him after her shift tonight.

Sansa went back to the greenhouse, her head still filled with worries and thoughts. Mostly worries, though. But the best thing to combat worrisome thoughts was some sort of repetitive task, and repotting the slow-growing sansevieria plants seemed like the easiest way to clear her mind. She’d left her gloves where they’d fallen, but having dirt on her hands might be nice. Beneficial.

Unfortunately, the entire time she shook the plants free of their nursery pots, all she could think about was what Ramsay had said, running it over and over in her head until the words basically lost meaning.

_“Do give the boyfriend a call…”_

How in the hell did he come to the decision to use that word? Why not sister? Or brother? Or _anything_ else?

It wasn’t even as if she _had_ a boyfriend regularly. She wasn’t the type who dated around, and she hadn’t really dated anyone since Joff.

Sansa shook another plant free of dirt before jamming it down into a bigger pot. The sweat was dripping down her forehead by now. The greenhouse was uncomfortably humid even in the dead of winter.

She pulled another single plant and stuck it in alongside the first. Margaery liked to sell these full-sized pots with at least three established plants inside. And it felt good to jam something into a pile of dirt. She could pretend it was Ramsay’s head. Or Joffrey’s.

Her eyes stung and Sansa pretended it was just the sweat dripping into them rather than the memory of her most recent boyfriend. Recent felt like the wrong word to use. Recent implied that it had happened well, _recently_.

But Joff had been over three years ago. Approaching three and a half once the new year rolled around.

Ramsay wasn’t like that.

No, she hadn’t even dated Ramsay before he was screwing her over, she thought bitterly. At least Joffrey had done more than sweet-talk her. Not that Joff deserved praise for what he’d done to her either.

The lies. The tricks. The utter betrayal of her trust.

Joffrey had kissed her and hugged her. Cuddled while watching movies. Caught her eye from across a crowded room. Beamed special smiles her way. Kissed her well enough that he coaxed her into bed. And then into sending him pictures while she was visiting her parents. It was fall break. Her first semester at KLU. She was away from her boyfriend. So she’d opened her shirt and her camera app and sent him pics.

Risque ones.

_Nudes._

Her cheeks burned as she dumped more dirt on top of the plants now situated in the pot. It stuck to her skin, under her fingernails. She should have put on the gloves, but honestly, feeling the dirt in her hands was grounding. No pun intended. It kept her here in the present instead of allowing her to float off into an unseemly, nightmarish memory.

She’d felt a thrill when she’d sent those pictures. One after the other. All above the waist, nothing below. But enough above the waist that it had warranted Joffrey to send them to all his friends under the heading “ _Check out the ice bitch._ ”

Taking a deep breath, Sansa pushed down the nausea and shame to remind herself that it was all in the past. Joffrey had been in the wrong, _not her_. Her father hadn’t even been angry with her.

Maybe that was the worst part. Because the guilty thoughts gave her no reprieve, but Dad had been so fucking _nice_ about it.

After her return south to campus and subsequent discovery that she had become a very hot topic around Joff’s group of friends, with no feasible support from Joffrey in the slightest, she’d called the only person she could think to call.

Robb.

“Sans? You have visitors!” Margaery pushed open the swinging door that separated the greenhouse from the rest of the shop and called loudly through it. Quickly enough that the door only had to swing once before it closed once more. The sound of her voice was jarring. Not because it was quiet in the greenhouse, but because it wasn’t.

There were large fans blowing at all times, and the fact that Margaery had perfected a way to get anyone’s attention while they were in here was impressive.

But also very, very jarring when one was lost in thought.

Sansa glanced down at her hands, covered in wet potting soil and sighed. She’d at least gotten most of the sansevieria repotted. But she’d only been working for a short while, so she’d have to come back soon to finish. Which meant there wasn’t much point in washing her hands if she was just going to go elbow deep in the dirt again.

She pushed up from her knees and turned to walk back out into the shop. She held her hands out in front of her, turning and pushing the door open with her back. She plastered a smile on her face while spinning around to greet whoever it was that was deigning to visit her here. She couldn’t think who it was, but judging by Margaery’s tone, it wasn’t Ramsay again.

Her plastered on smile actually deepened when she saw who was there.

“Robb! Theon!”.

“Hey there, Sansa,” Theon said while he walked closer to the counter, shooting a look at Robb, who was trailing behind him. Her brother’s gaze was centered on Margaery while he nearly bumped into a display of Peace Lilies, narrowly stopping himself from toppling one over in the process.

“Sorry,” Robb muttered. “Hey, Sans.”

Sansa’s eyebrows went up because although Robb’s greeting was intended for her, he was still staring at Marg like some kind of moron. She rolled her eyes, almost asking what they were doing there when Margaery spoke up instead. “I guess Sansa must have called you, huh?”

The question was directed at Theon, who looked thoroughly surprised and started to stumble into a round-about answer, but Margaery, unheeding of Sansa’s death glare, barrelled forward. “After what happened earlier, I mean, it was--”

Sansa closed her eyes. No way would Robb give up now that he thought something had happened to her.

Shit.

She’d have to tell him about Ramsay and then… and then?

Glancing back at Robb, she silently hoped he hadn’t heard. Her hopes were futile.

Margaery’s words seemed to break Robb out of his trance because he frowned. Deeply. “Why, what happened earlier? _Did_ she call you, Theon? I thought we were just… you were just driving by and decided to pop in? I thought.”

Margaery’s eyes shifted towards Sansa, and even though she’d obviously put her foot in it and dragged Sansa in too, she thought fast. Bless her. She held out her hand out towards Robb. “Come into the back with me, I need help.”

That seemed to daze Robb just enough to change the subject. “You need help? With what? I mean, no problem at all, I can help, definitely, but what do you--”

“The bulbs burnt out back here. I need help changing it. I’m not quite tall enough.”

“You don’t have a stepladder?” he asked, even when she drug him bodily towards the other door. The one that led back to the office.

Thank the gods. She’d have to take Marg out for drinks one night. She deserved it. She took one for the team.

Theon, on the other hand, wasn’t distracted in the slightest. He turned back towards Sansa. “What happened?”

“C’mon.” She tilted her head back towards the greenhouse doors. “Come help me repot some stuff.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened, or just score some free help?”

“Both,” she replied.

He followed her into the greenhouse and back towards the far corner, where a load of Flamingo Lilies awaited new pots. She hoisted one tray up and handed them to him, before taking one of her own and carrying it over to the potting station.

He followed her, gaze unfaltering and burning into her back while she started to mix up more potting substrate with her hands. “What happened, Sansa?”

She swallowed thickly and blinked a few times to clear her eyes before she reached for one of the pots and squeezed around the plastic exterior to loosen the plant inside. “Ramsay stopped by.”

If he was surprised, she’d never know it, but Theon had gotten pretty good at hiding what he was thinking behind those eyes. She couldn’t really tell, but she knew the wheels were turning, waiting for more information.

“He said he’d left something at my place…”

Theon snickered. “Told you. It’s gone. Did you tell him it was gone?”

“Yeah, I did. I told him _we_ got rid of it.”

He was silent for a long moment. “ _We_?”

Pressing her lips together, she nodded, hoping she looked sufficiently contrite and full of regrets, because she really wished like hell that she hadn’t said that.

“So he knows there’s someone helping you,” he said plainly.

Sansa couldn’t bring herself to look at him anymore, so she jammed the plant into a slightly bigger pot and filled in the area around it with fresh substrate. She slowly nodded her head.

“What else did he say?” he asked.

“He told me to give the boyfriend a call and have him help me look through my flat tonight.”

She heard Theon suck in a breath. He was silent for a long moment while she placed the newly repotted plant to her right.

“Margaery thinks he’s bluffing,” she continued.

“Because she’s such an expert on Ramsay Bolton, is she?” he laughed bitterly.

“No, but is there any reason he would suspect it’s you helping me?” she asked. “Did he see you at my flat that night?”

“Not that I know of,” he replied.

“Would you know, though?” she asked.

She heard him shrug, the leather on his jacket creaking slightly. “I honestly don’t know. I’ve seen him hold on to information for years before he used it. I’ve also seen him never use the information before, so there would be no way of knowing exactly what Ramsay knows.” He exhaled loudly, sounding very much like he’d just given up.

“Maybe it would help if you told me what you did, Theon…” She was being purposefully vague, but he knew the ‘what’ to which she was referring.

“You don’t need to know what I did,” he replied.

“I have to disagree with you--”

“What I did was highly illegal and it would be better for you if you didn’t know,” he said simply.

She rounded on him, her blue eyes catching his gray ones for the first time since he’d followed her back here. “Highly illegal? The fuck?”

He smirked. “You needed help.”

“So you broke the law?”

“Had to. To deal with Ramsay, and truly, I didn’t think much about it until I’d already done it, so don’t add more points in my column just yet. I wasn’t being noble. Far from it. I didn’t have a plan, I just… acted.”

“How resourceful of you.”

“You have no idea.”

“Not my fault, that.”

“Sansa. Drop it. I promise it’d be better if you didn’t know.”

“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter if he already knows you’re helping me, anyway.”

“Ehhh…” he muttered something under his breath that she couldn’t quite understand.

“What was that?” she asked, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she went back to repotting Flamingo Lilies.

“I said, _Margaery might be right_ ,” he said a bit more loudly. “Ramsay could be bluffing. He’s good at it. He likely deduced from your little ‘we’ slip-up that _someone_ was helping you. It could be anyone. So, he probably just used the term that would cause the biggest reaction to see what he could learn from that.”

“I didn’t react. Just stared at him.”

“Then he probably didn’t find anything else out from you. Nothing to worry about.”

Sansa exhaled heavily once more, her hands shaking a bit while relief washed over her. She’d done her best. She hadn’t doomed them. And more importantly, Ramsay didn’t know of Theon’s involvement.

Yet.

“Hey, c’mere,” Theon took the pot from her hands, setting it down gingerly before pulling her into an embrace.

“My hands are dirty,” she reminded him.

“I don’t care about that, Red.” She could tell from his smug tone that he was grinning.

She couldn’t help but smile. Dropping her head to his shoulder, she laughed. He hadn’t called her that since she was thirteen and he was sixteen and her parents had taken everyone down to the lake for the week before school started back.

She’d followed up the nickname usage by jumping on his back and trying to drown him. Not that she could drown an Ironborn, but she’d given it the old college try.

It only ended when her father had yanked her off his back and she took to kicking her legs and trying in vain to wound Theon that way. He’d laughed and laughed and she’d tearfully asked her father to forbid him from calling her that ever again.

Ned had responded that he’d rather not make a proclamation that he wouldn’t be able to enforce, and she’d gone sniffling up to the dock to dry off and pout.

Theon caught up with her later and told her he wouldn’t call her ‘Red’ if it bothered her so much. She’d haughtily informed him that it did, and true to his word, he’d never uttered the word in her presence again.

Until today.

“Is it okay if I call you that, or does it still offend you beyond reason?” he asked.

“I like it better than ‘princess’,” she replied, laughing again and hugging him a bit more tightly.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he reminded her.

“It didn’t bother me then, and it doesn’t bother me now,” she replied.

Theon pulled back to catch her gaze and hold it briefly, his eyes narrowing. “You told me you hated it. You tried to claw my face off for calling you that.”

Smirking, she just shrugged, her hands still wrapped around his waist. “I thought you were making fun of me.”

“I was. But only because it bothered you.”

“It only bothered me because _you_ said it.”

He rolled his eyes. “Still just as impossible as you were back then, Red.”

The door to the greenhouse swung open. Robb and Marg strolled in, with the latter shooting Sansa a suggestive look behind Robb’s back.

Sansa closed her eyes and turned back to Theon. “Looks like Marg is done with Robb.”

“Look, I’ll… I’ll come by tonight… for dinner. If that’s alright…”

“Really?” Sansa mouthed, and Theon nodded once before ducking down to press a very innocent kiss to her lips. It made her skin tingle, no matter how chaste he was being. His lips were chapped, but she found that she didn’t really care. It didn’t alter her enjoyment of his fake kisses any less.

She’d heard tales of Theon Greyjoy’s lip service, and how it never failed to disappoint, so she simply assumed that the only way he knew how to kiss was like he meant it.

Rising on her tiptoes, she pulled him back for more. Fake relationship be damned, she was going to enjoy _something_. He started to smile into the kiss, but instead he wrapped his arm around her waist, his hand splaying the small of her back. He pressed just enough to make her arch into him. Both of her hands fisted into his leather jacket, likely getting it all filthy with the potting substrate, but that was the furthest thing from her mind at the moment.

Robb cleared his throat.

Ending the kiss, Theon pressed another softly against her lips before loosening his hold on her. “We should go,” he tilted his head to include Robb in his statement.

“Yeah, snog on your own time, Sansa,” Margaery said, clearly joking while she was gazing after the two men leaving in amusement.

“See you later, Sansa,” Robb called, lifting his hand to wave to her. He turned towards Margaery and nodded to her, his face flushing crimson. “And you as well.” Theon sighed and waved perfunctorily at her and Marg before clapping a hand on Robb’s shoulder and leading him out of the shop.

“Are you _certain_ there’s not a shred of real anything in there?” Margaery asked, watching them go. “Because that kiss looked maybe a little on the real side.”

Sansa shook her head. “Not even a molecule. He’s just a really good kisser. I can’t enjoy myself in a fake manner?”

Marg simply hummed in reply, gazing around the greenhouse. “Just the rest of the flamingo lilies and you can go on early.”

“Are you sure?” Sansa asked. “I feel like I’ve barely done anything.”

“You’ve done plenty,” Marg assured her. “Besides. I think you’ve got a dinner to plan from the looks of things.”

Sansa blushed and went back to the potting station. “He’s a man. He’ll eat anything.”

Margaery hummed again in that same tone as before and Sansa went back to her task.

* * *

After washing her hands thoroughly and scrubbing the dirt from under her nails, she stopped by the office to say goodbye to Marg.

“Don’t forget your plant,” Margaery nodded towards the light green sansevieria in a white ceramic pot by the office door.

“Good gods, that thing’s huge,” Sansa’s mouth fell open while she took it in. “You really shouldn’t have bothered, Marg. Sell that to some bougie singleton and make bank.”

Marg rolled her eyes. “I couldn’t bear to see it go somewhere I couldn’t visit.”

Sansa hoisted the pot into her arms and lingered by the door. “Say…”

“Hmm?”

“Did you really have Robb change the bulbs back here?” She couldn’t tell a difference, but that didn’t mean anything.

Margaery giggled, her tongue between her teeth as she shook her head no. “Nah. Nothing burnt out back here, It was a bad excuse.”

“Bad excuse for what?”

“For pulling him back here and snogging his brains out on my desk,” Margaery replied.

Sansa’s mouth fell open. “You? And my brother? Are you--”

“Dating? I suppose that’s what the kids are calling it these days.”

“But you only just met him today!”

“I’ve _seen_ him before,” Margaery argued. “Just haven’t spoken with him until today. Turns out, I like the cut of his jib.”

“What were you doing feeling up his jib during work hours?” Sansa teased.

Margaery rolled her eyes. “Haven’t done _that_ yet.”

“Well, feel free to never let me know when that happens. As much as I love you, he’s my brother. I’d like to believe he doesn’t have a… a _jib_.”

“Noted,” Marg said, grinning a little while Sansa readjusted the pot on her hip. “On the contrary, do feel free to detail all of Theon’s cuts and jibs and…” She trailed off, both of them laughing before she continued, “... whatever.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Sansa reminded her. “It’s all an illusion.” She winked and Margaery tutted.

“Didn’t look like an illusion. Looked like you two were enjoying yourselves.”

“No law against that, is there?”

“Definitely not. Now get out of here and go have fun tonight. Get that other one out of your mind. He’s nothing.”

Sansa sighed and started to wave goodbye, but thought better of it due to the large pot in her arms. Instead, she called out her farewell over her shoulder while she made her way out to her car.

The quick stop at the grocery store and subsequent drive back to her flat were uneventful, but she knew the second she looked up at her front door that things weren’t going to stay that way.

Her sister was leaning against her door, looking rather perturbed. Sansa supposed she had a right to, her keys didn’t work anymore. Oops.

She hoisted the plant upon her hip once more, tucked the two bags from the grocery store into her fist, and locked her car doors. She made her way slowly up the stairs and around her balcony, coming to a rest in front of Arya, who made no move to help lighten her load or anything.

“Why don’t my keys work anymore?” Arya asked bluntly.

“Changed the locks,’ Sansa replied, matching her sister’s tone.

“What for?”

“Landlord wanted to,” she lied and reached for her keys. “I’ll make you a new set next time I’m able.”

“We can go after dinner,” Arya replied. “What are you making, by the way?”

Sansa didn’t mind cooking for Arya, but she was almost pleased to tell her she had plans. It never happened, Sansa having plans.

“Theon’s coming for dinner, actually… and I don’t know what I’m making exactly. Maybe pasta? I bought some chicken.”

“Oh, _Theon’s_ coming for dinner, is he?” Arya’s voice dripped with sarcasm. Sansa thrust the bags of groceries into her sister’s hands and unlocked the door to let them both into her flat.

She placed the plant by the front window and closed and locked the door behind her.

“You shouldn’t eat pasta before fucking. You’ll get a cramp,” Arya continued, holding out the groceries.

“I thought that was eating before swimming that caused cramps.”

“Same thing. Any cardio, really.”

“Huh, good to know.”

Considering there wasn’t going to be any fucking this evening, she was still going to make pasta. She took the bags and set them on the coffee table for the time being.

“So you are then?” Arya asked.

“Are what?”

“Fucking him.”

“Gods, Arya…” Sansa dropped her keys in the bowl by the door and hung her purse on the hook. Her coat went up after.

“What? Don’t be a prude, Sans. That’s what you do with a boyfriend, isn’t it? I’m fucking Gendry.”

“Yes, _I know_. You never fail to tell me how you’re fucking him, _when_ you’re fucking him, _why_ you’re fucking him.” She scooped up the groceries and walked out to the kitchen. Arya followed, still talking.

“Precisely. I’m very open with my big sister because we’re best friends.”

“Is that why? I thought maybe it was just to brag about how big his cock is.”

Arya snickered. “That too.” Sansa ducked into the fridge to tuck away the chicken, milk, and vegetables. There was a box of cereal still to be put away.

“Okay… what’s your point?”

“My point is, you’ve apparently been dating Theon for a while now, Six weeks, by Robb’s estimation. And you’ve yet to confide in _me_ the way I confide in you.”

Sansa weighed the possibilities of being able to lie to Arya. She was good at lying. Obviously. But to Arya? She’d never really tried. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“What do you want to know?” she asked, setting the box of cereal on top of the fridge.

“How big is it?” Arya asked immediately, sounding very much like it was the very question she’d been ramping up to for this entire conversation.

“ARYA, honestly.”

“No, you have to tell me.”

“I don’t have to tell you shit-all,” Sansa countered. “And if that’s the only reason you came over, I’m sorry to say you wasted your time.”

“I came over because I didn’t want to cook tonight, and I miss you. AND YES, you do have to tell me. Because _you know_ what everyone said. Is it true?”

“Is _what_ true?” Sansa asked, knowing full well the nature of the question her sister was asking, but nonetheless being woefully unprepared for her choice of words.

“Is he hung like a Clydesdale?”

Closing her eyes, Sansa wondered if she could get away with being vague about something like this. It wasn’t as if she’d never _thought_ about it. It wasn’t a prevailing thought, but she’d been curious.

And this wouldn’t be exactly lying. She had _some_ first hand experience here. Sort of. Theon had been pressing it up against her arse that morning when Arya’d caught them. She wouldn’t have to fabricate _all_ of it, and she was fairly certain that if she could perpetuate the rumor that Theon was well endowed, then he wouldn’t be _too_ upset with her for discussing it.

She hadn’t _seen_ anything, but she’d felt enough of it to make an educated guess..

“Not a Clydesdale exactly,” Sansa replied, her cheeks flushing slightly. “But it is definitely on the equine end of the scale.” She couldn’t help smiling. It was mostly out of embarrassment, but it seemed to work in her favor.

Arya laughed aloud. “I fucking knew it. You can always tell. Too cocky and they’ve got nothing, but the right amount of cocky--”

“Right so, now you know.”

“ _To be fair_ , I could sort of guess that from the other morning,” Arya replied with a smirk. “And so could you.”

“I don’t have to guess because--”

“Because you two are really and truly bumping uglies. I get it.” The lilt in her voice made it sound like she really didn’t believe Sansa at all, and Sansa was about two seconds from coming clean when there was a knock at the door.

“Speak of the ruddy devil himself,” Arya muttered, standing up as well. “Guess I’ll clear out so you can ride his pony.”

“Shut. Up,” Sansa hissed, reaching for the doorknob and smiling widely at Theon on the other side. “Hi there, Theon.”

“Sans… Arya.” He nodded to her sister.

“I’m just leaving,” Arya said. “Nice to see you, Theon. You too, sis. Yee-haw.”

“Get out,” Sansa shoved her out the door and pulled Theon inside.

“What was that about?” he asked when Sansa slammed the door behind Arya.

“She’s onto us,” she said simply. “She knows we’re not being truthful.”

“How does she know?” Theon asked.

“Because she’s Arya, I suppose,” Sansa replied wryly. “I would be proud, but it’s sort of detrimental right now.”

Theon huffed out a sigh and shrugged. “I dunno, it’s probably fine. She won’t tell anyone.”

“No, she won’t. I was thinking of just coming clean to her like I did Marg…”

“Wait, Marg knows?” Theon asked, sliding his coat from his shoulders and hanging it on the hook. “C’mon, Sans. I do business with her, now she’s gonna be all weird and acting like we have a secret when I see her!”

“Well, I didn’t know you did business with her,” Sansa replied cattily.

Theon grinned, biting his bottom lip to keep it from spreading too wide. “Is that a hint of jealousy I detect?”

Sansa shot him a look. “Only if you’re also detecting delusion because that’s the only way I’d be jealous is if you’re also deluded.”

“Don’t worry, Sans. Marg isn’t my type. You’re the only girl for me. In a fake sort of capacity.”

“Is she the kind you’d like in a real sort of capacity?” she found herself asking.

“No,” he replied sincerely. “She’s not the sort I drift towards, Sans.”

She had to stop herself from asking what sort he _did_ drift towards because she didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to know the sort she was keeping him from with this facade. She just didn’t want to know any of it.

“What do you want for dinner?” she asked instead.

“Oh, you don’t have to cook,” he started. “We can order in.”

“Really? I was thinking of making pasta.”

“Are you good at making pasta?” he asked, a laugh barely dancing there in his eyes. He kicked off his shoes by the front door, padding over to her sofa in his socks.

“I usually do for family dinners at Mom and Dad’s,” she replied. “I just need to make sure I only make enough for two. That’s a hard lesson to learn.”

“Wait, you make the pasta for the family dinners at Winterfell? Are you talking about boiling water and dropping in dried noodles, or do you make the sauce also?”

“I make the whole dish, asshole,” she teased. “Sauce and pasta, and salad.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“I just never expected you to do something without flaunting it for praise.”

“I’m not as hungry for praise as you think I am,” she replied. “Plus, I figured you lot would just make fun of me.”

He knelt down in front of the sofa and tugged the cushions off, reaching down into the dark corners of the couch and fishing around for something. “Why would I make fun of you for cooking?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. I have to protect myself from you, Jon, and Robb though. A ruthless lot, all of you.”

“We’re only ruthless because you and Arya cornered the market on quips and teasing years ago. It’s self-defense, truly.” He chuckled and slid his hand from the sofa empty-handed. “Alright, so you cook and I’ll search around out here for something else he might have left.”

Sansa noted how he absolutely did not bring up Ramsay’s name. That was fine with her.

She ventured out to the kitchen and opened the fridge. She found the chicken, cream, and vegetables and decided on some sort of cream sauce.

It went by quickly, chopping the vegetables and sauteing the chicken. She made too much pasta, but she supposed that was better than not enough. She was bringing the food out to the table when he finished up with his search.

“I don’t think he left anything else here, but I wasn’t expecting to find anything either,” he replied. “He was probably just bluffing.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, turning back to go get plates. Theon followed her.

“Where’s your silverware?” he asked. Sansa pointed out the drawer for him, half expecting him to start rummaging around in there for something of Ramsay’s as well, but he didn’t. He just pulled out forks and knives and followed her out to the dining area again. He slid the forks and knives onto the table around the plates. “This smells good,” he said. “Sorry if I didn’t believe you before about the cooking.”

She shrugged. “How could you have known?”

“I dunno. Maybe I could have paid you some attention instead of having my head stuck up my own arse?”

She laughed softly. “Not much chance of that, is there?”

“You’d be surprised,” he replied.

The vagueness of the conversation was getting to her, so she decided just to serve herself and eat.

The beginning of the meal was spent in silence, but Theon spoke up soon enough.

“Not really looking forward to going back home…”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, the heat’s still not fixed. Your place is so _warm_.”

“Oh, I thought a blanket nest on the floor was the height of comfort?” she teased.

He laughed. “Not for the long-term, as it turns out.”

“You could always stay here,” she replied, hoping she sounded nonchalant.

He paused for a moment as if he were actually considering it. “No, no, I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not? Everyone already thinks we’re together, so it wouldn’t be remiss to anyone we see regularly. Plus, I have heat.”

He made a short sound that could have been a snort. “Yeah but--”

“You could sleep on the hide-a-bed, of course.”

“You have a hide-a-bed,” he stated. Not really a question, but he _had_ just been poking around in her sofa.

“Yes, and currently, it’s not being used.”

“You wouldn’t mind me crashing there?”

“Not at all,” she replied. She actually hadn’t been sleeping very well since the whole Ramsay debacle, and now that she knew he still had his eye on them, she was fairly certain it wouldn’t get better, so this was really a perfect solution to a problem she was only beginning to see.

“Okay,” he replied.

“I could ask you in a flashier way if you’d rather…” Sansa said.

“Normally, I’d say no, but I’m sort of curious about how you’d fancy that up.”

“Please Theon, come sleep on my hide-a-bed. It’s so very cold and hidden in my sofa.”

He snorted and had to reach for his water glass before he could answer.

“Anything for you, Sans.”

“Thank you, Theon.” She meant it. The tension went out of her shoulders and she tucked into her dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe the response to this fic, y'all are superstars, thank you for all the sugar!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon POV again!!! 
> 
> I had to do so much research on sump pumps for this chapter, I could probably fix one myself.
> 
> However, a disclaimer: Please do not use my Modern AU Theonsa fanfiction as a guide to fix your own sump pump. It is a fanfiction. Not a DIY manual. That is all. <3
> 
> Also, I am so sorry for the long update. I recently started on an anti-depressant and it took away all my motivation to create. :( But I'm on a different one now that seems to be much better, and I got my mojo back! YAY! Anyway, enjoy!
> 
> Special thanks to treaddelicately for being there for me through all of this mess. And for cheering me on and motivating me to write this chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also hey, check out this amazing mood board treaddelicately made me for this fic:
> 
>   
> 

**THEON**

* * *

Theon scrolled through his dashboard on his phone with one hand, holding his half-eaten sandwich in the other. He’d packed it for lunch, but then he hadn’t _eaten_ lunch, so he’d recycled it for dinner instead.

He wasn’t really looking at his phone, but it was better than staring blankly at the painting Sansa had hanging on the wall in front of him, at least this way he looked like he was doing _something_.

Sansa was in the kitchen emptying the dishwasher. Something he’d offered to do for her as soon as he was finished eating. She’d said yes, and now she was doing it anyway.

He’d only been here for about three nights, but he was starting to notice a pattern with Sansa. She’d accept help, but then quickly complete the task herself anyway. He wasn’t sure if it was a weird tick because she was the oldest daughter in her family and therefore expected to complete tasks like these or if it was just a weird tick because she was Sansa.

Robb had no such qualms about housework, that was for certain.

Three nights here already.

He hadn’t wanted to stay longer than that first night. But he wasn’t any closer to fixing his malfunctioning sump pump than he had been at the beginning. In fact, he was running out of ideas. Nothing seemed to work, and the water just kept happening. This one was a pickle for sure, but he’d been told the house needed heavy maintenance and repairs when he’d bought it.

The only problem he could clearly see was the valve leading into the sump pump. It had to be cracked or something. Except he’d replaced it a few times now, and it was still unable to keep up with the water in the basement. He had his eye on the top of the line valve and if that still didn’t fix it, he’d have to do the unthinkable and call a plumber.

He shuddered to even consider the thought, let alone actually go through with it. Theon wondered if there were discreet plumbers, who came in the dead of night so none of the neighbors could see that you’d given up and called in a professional.

Sansa ran water into a glass, jarring him from his thoughts.

“I said I’d do that for you,” Theon drawled, not even turning to face her.

“I know, but I’m not doing anything, and you’re…”

Theon stuffed the rest of his sandwich into his mouth, it wasn’t much, just over a corner. “Stuffing my face.” He stood up and pocketed his phone, grabbing his plate and strolling into the kitchen. “Go. Sit down. This isn’t a hotel and you certainly aren’t my maid.”

“They’re not just _your_ dishes,” she grumbled.

“Not just yours either.”

She stood there just to his right while he picked up the sponge.

“Make sure you use the scrubby side,” she offered.

“Are you going to be breathing down my neck the entire time I wash this plate or--”

“Fine, fine. Just trying to help.”

“I’ll help you too. Sans, when you sit down, pull out the chair first so you don’t fall on your ass, okay?”

Sighing, she left his side and yanked out the chair. “I get it. I hear you.” She sat down jarringly.

He smirked and finished rinsing off his dishes and loading them into the dishwasher. He added the detergent, closed the door, and turned it on, turning again to lean back against the counter. The picture of nonchalance. He hoped, anyway. “There, was that so hard?”

She shot him a look. “You forgot that glass.” She pointed to the one by his elbow that he’d just been drinking out of.

“Shit,” he turned off the dishwasher again and loaded the glass, checking around to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything else. “Okay. There. Was _that_ so hard?”

She chuckled. “No. I suppose not.” She rose wearily to her feet and left the room.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he reached for it, noting the banner on the screen read Robb’s name.

He read the text immediately, smirking a little at the context.

_\- Hey T you and S wanna come out for drinks tonight?_

There was a split second before another message.

_-If you’re not busy that is lol_

Theon pushed the entirety of _that_ statement out of his head for the time being, instead following where Sansa had just gone, out of the kitchen, and on through to the living room.

She’d pulled out a bag full of yarn from the chest near the television, and was sorting through yarn and crochet hooks. The only reason Theon knew they were for crocheting was that he was vaguely certain that you used _needles_ for knitting, and the thing Sansa had was definitely a hook.

He’d be perfectly fine with swinging by his house to swap out the valve, and then heading back here for a quiet evening of getting to choose what they watched on Netflix this time because Sansa was crocheting and not really looking at the screen. But he could just as easily go out to the pub as well. So he’d leave it up to his supposed girlfriend.

“Sans,” he said. She paused her untangling of the grey yarn to meet his gaze.

“What?” she asked.

“You wanna go out with your brother for drinks tonight?”

She frowned slightly.“Why are _you_ asking me?” She reached for her phone to check if she had a missed message.

“I think he just sent the text to me.”

“He asked me _through_ you?” She laughed a little. “That’s what I have to look forward to, then? I’m no longer his sister, just your current flavour?”

Theon chuckled softly. If she thought she was ever just a flavour, she was sadly mistaken. Not that he was seriously considering the possibility of the two of them _actually_ … or anything. He was simply banking off the few kisses they’d already shared. If she kissed like _that_ when she didn’t mean it, well… He wasn’t sure why she wasn’t with someone. Those lips were the North’s best-kept secret.

_You’re not a flavour, Sans. You’re a full taste at least._

Her eyebrows went up. “Oh really?”

Shit. He’d said that aloud. Fuck.

He laughed and reached up to scratch the back of his head. “Well yeah. _At least_.” Because playing up those words were what would save him here. Drowned God, help him.

“At least?” her eyes were dancing and Robb was waiting on an answer, and Theon wasn’t ready to explain exactly what a taste was, and he just knew _that_ would be the next question to pass her lips.

“Absolutely,” he laughed nervously. “The pub? You wanna go out?”

“Sure, sounds fun,” she said slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly as she stared his way, trying to figure out what he’d meant as if it were painted right there on his face.

 _Good luck,_ he thought to himself. _If it’s written there, read it aloud and share it with the class, Sansa. Because I sure as fuck don’t know what I meant._

He turned from the room, his cheeks blazing as he sent back an affirmative response to Robb.

His friend must have been anxious for their reply because he answered back almost immediately.

_-Thank the gods. I invited Marg and I didn’t want her to feel awkward._

_You mean YOU didn’t want to feel awkward,_ Theon texted back.

_-That too. Hammerhead @ 8?_

“Hammerhead at eight?” Theon called into the other room.

“That’s fine,” Sansa sing-songed.

He sent back a thumbs-up emoji and left it at that. A quick glance at the time told him that he still had a bit of time to go to the home improvement store and then back to his house to his particularly difficult basement. Plus, it would get him out of this flat where he’d accidentally given Sansa a very unfortunate compliment.

Well, _unfortunate_ wasn’t exactly the right word, but…

He needed to get some distance and work the kinks out of his brain. He’d been living near her for too long or something.

He reentered the room once he was sure he’d collected himself. “So, I have to run by the home improvement store and pick up another valve before it closes. Then I have to go to the house and make sure it’s the right one… shouldn’t take any longer than a half an hour or so… you wanna just meet at Hammerhead?” he asked.

She raised her eyebrows. “No way am I getting stood up by my fake boyfriend,” she countered.

“What? I’ll be there. I just have to do a thing first. Adulting, you know? It’s the latest craze.” He shot her a grin and she shot one back at him.

“Plus if we’re dating, we’d show up together,” she continued as if he hadn’t said anything at all. “I’ll just come along with you.”

“Nah, maybe you shouldn’t I--”

“You’re going to the home improvement store, buying a part and taking it by your house…” she said slowly. “Half an hour, right?”

“Well, I was going to just kind of pop it in place before I went to the pub. Just to put my mind at ease. You know?” He tried to grin at her, but it wasn’t working.

She sighed heavily. “So you were going to be late? Fuck that, Theon. I’ll be late too. I’m coming with you.”

He sighed. “Suit yourself. I suppose I’ll run to the store and I’ll circle back around and you can hop on?”

“Perfect. I’ll be ready and waiting.”

“Perfect,” he echoed.

The trip to the store isn’t that big of an ordeal. Just like the website said, the store had the valve in stock. He was starting to think the place was cursed.

Sansa was waiting just like she said she would be when he turned back into the car park of her flat. He waited for her to lock the door and jam her keys into her pocket.

If he was the type to do so, his jaw would have dropped when she turned around.

She had on a pair of black slacks and a little cropped jumper. He could just see a peek of her belly between the hem and her waistband. She looked taller. Likely due to the heels she was wearing. Her hair was long and wavy, and as she neared the truck, he could see she’d put on makeup as well. Not a lot, but she never wore much.

Makeup. Never wore much _makeup_. She didn’t wear it at all around the flat. Not that Theon could really see much of a difference then, but she seemed to think there was.

His eyes felt like they were about to pop out of his head as she climbed into his truck, her scent wafting in with her. She smelled good. Floral, but something else too. It was pleasing, and he had to literally shake himself out of her scent induced stupor so he could put the truck in gear and drive it.

Because driving. Driving was a thing he had to do. Smelling his fake girlfriend like some sort of creep was not.

“You changed clothes,” he said.

She sniffed derisively. “I glowed up for you, Theon, the least you could do is give me a proper compliment.”

“You didn’t glow up,” he smirked.

“Did too.”

“ _Glow up_ implies you were somewhat lackluster to begin with. You didn’t have to do much, Sans.”

“You’re full of shit, Theon Greyjoy,” she said, laughing.

“Am I?”

“You are. Here I thought you actually had something worthwhile to say, and instead, it’s a cheesy line.”

“A _line_?” he laughed loudly. “I don’t use lines, I dunno what you’re on about.”

“Just… keep your eyes on the road, you need to signal.”

“Good gods, woman.” he flipped his turn signal a little harder than he should have done. “You’re agitating. Bugging me all the time.”

“I bug because I care.”

He reached for the radio and turned it on, singing along loudly to the song that came on for lack of anything else to say to her. He didn’t really know all the words, but his horrible skill brought him through and succeeded in getting Sansa to shut up.

They arrived at the house and he reached for the part, slipping it out of the bag and opening the door. Sansa reached across him and flipped off his headlights, her elbow brushing against the front of his chest as she did so, she deposited the keys into his lap and opened her own door.

“I was going to grab those,” he said with a sniff.

She shrugged. “But you didn’t. So I did.”

“Infuriating,” he grumbled, making for the house. “You could just wait for me to do it.”

“We’d be waiting all night if I were to wait on you to do _anything_ ,” she countered.

He stopped walking, staring over at her while she climbed out of the truck and shut the door.

“Considering you’ve made one-hundred percent of the moves in this relationship, I can see why you’d think that,” he said with a sniff.

“Oh really?” she shrilled, her voice only a half a step away from being a squawk. “I don’t recall you complaining at _all_ about our arrangement… I would have called it off if I ever thought--”

“Calm down,” he said, jingling his keys in his palm to find the correct one. “I’m not complaining.”

“Sounded like you were… if you want I can--”

“I don’t, alright? I don’t want. This is fine. I’m just teasing you. It’s what I _do_. I understand what you’re doing and why you’re doing it. I just thought we were taking the piss, that’s all.”

“Sorry,” she said quietly.

“Stop apologizing,” he said, unlocking the door.

“Okay. But how can I help?”

He wanted to tell her to wait for him in the living room, but he actually needed some help. Well, he didn’t _need_ it, but if they wanted to get out of here before ten, he probably should ask for it.

“Can you go out back and look for the hole I dug? The water main’s there. Turn it on when I say, okay? I’ve got the basement window open, you’ll hear me.”

“You want me to reach into a dark hole in your backyard? I meant did you want me to hold a flashlight or something? Not go reaching into strange crevices where a whitewalker could grab me.”

He sighed heavily. “ _Please_ go reach into the hole, the Night King said it was too small for his kind, so you only have to worry about the usual vermin. Please, and thank you, Sansa.”

She huffed in exasperation but went anyway. Theon went down to the basement and started swapping out the valves. It was an easy enough job to do when the water wasn’t on, but the real test would be when he gave her the signal to flip the switch. Or turn the handle, more accurately.

Once the new part was in place, he yelled out the open basement window. “Okay, Sansa! Turn it on!”

He waited.

The groaning of the pipes as they filled sounded like music to his ears. And for a few seconds, it looked like he’d fixed it.

Except… he hadn’t. Of fucking course, he hadn’t.

Water began to pool under his feet, practically spraying up from the drain in the middle of the basement floor.

“Fuck,” he swore. “Fuck, fuck, fuck… Okay!” he called out the window. Nothing changed. If anything, more water began to gush around his ankles, soaking his shoes and wicking slowly into his socks.

“OKAY, SANSA, OKAY!” He called.

“What? What do you--” she replied, her face suddenly in the tiny basement window.

“I said, OKAY,” he repeated, sounding more than a little perturbed.

“Shit! I thought okay meant you were alright! I didn’t--fuck--sorry!” She disappeared and seconds later, the water stopped.

It didn’t drain though, so he’d have to manually drain this again before they left. Which was a load of bollocks.

“Fuuuuck.”

The fucking sump pump only drained water that was already in the basement. So where the fuck did it come from? He’d drained the water manually. There shouldn’t _be_ any water in the sump pump. Let alone running into it. Sodding hell.

At least none of the support beams were getting wet. It was just the poured cement floor of the basement itself, along with the cinder block walls.

Kneeling down, he pulled up the drain in the floor to examine the sump pump. He couldn't see much, he’d have to drain the water to get a better look. Which was going to make them late to the pub.

Which, as previously stated, was a load of bollocks because Sansa looked so nice. She’d gotten all dolled up and he was going to have to tell her they were going to be late because he was fucking around in the basement.

The only thing he could think of it being was a leak somewhere he couldn’t see. It was like some kind of stress dream.

He could have kicked something he was so mad.

“Drowned God, just fucking cover me up if that’s what you want!” he swore into the ceiling, knowing damn well the Drowned God would have filled his lungs with water if that’s really what was causing the problem, but not knowing what else to do or say. “Just fucking wash all this into the fucking ground… FUCK.”

He heard something on the stairs above him. Footsteps. He groaned and leaned back against the wall, covering his face with his hands.

“I’ll be up in a moment. I’m going to call a plumber and we can go out. Just… let me fucking wallow for a second.”

The footsteps didn’t slow. In fact, they came down the stairs, and he heard a dull splash when she stepped into the water with him. He looked up from his hands, almost startled to see Sansa standing there, her jeans rolled up her calves and her shoes discarded at the top of the stairs.

She was pulling her hair back into a messy bun and looking at him expectantly.

“What do you need me to do?”

“I don’t fucking know, Sansa. You didn’t have to come down here, it’s a mess and soaking wet… flooded actually… to state the bloody obvious.”

She snorted a little. “I didn’t have to come down here? You were cursing your parents’ gods last I checked, asking him to strike this place from Westeros. Besides. You’ve always helped me when I needed it. It’s high time I returned the favor. Now, what do you need me to do?”

Theon wondered if he had stars in his eyes right then because she looked like an absolute angel.

If he wasn’t in freezing cold water, he’d kiss her for real.

“Hold this cover for me while I check and see if the valve’s installed improperly…”

She did as he directed. Sometimes it took him a couple tries to get exactly what he was asking for, but he tried to remain patient. She’d never worked on plumbing before.

But to no avail. Nothing he did seemed to make a difference. Every time one of them ran up to turn on the water, they had to turn it right off again because the other was being drenched.

Her hair was sticking to her scalp and her neck. And her forehead a little too by the time he was ready to give up again.

“Just… fucking drop it. I’ll call someone. I clearly don’t know what I’m doing… I’ll be intruding on you for a bit longer now…” He sighed heavily and kicked the water with his foot.

“Okay, first of all, you’re not intruding on me. Secondly… why don’t you talk it out? I’ll be your rubber duck.”

His brow knit for a moment. Talking things out wouldn’t do a damned bit of good, but he was loathe to deny her anything. Especially when she spoke in that soothing way she had.

He slowly explained what a sump pump was, and what it was supposed to do. And how it kept the basement from flooding during rainy seasons.

“But… the only water that’s flooding the basement comes from the sump pump,” she said slowly.

“Right.”

“And the basement’s not flooding until you turn the water on.”

“Yes,” he replied impatiently. “As I’ve described already.”

“So where’s it coming from? It’s gotta be coming from somewhere” she looked down at the water pooling around their ankles.

“Yes, I suppose so,” he said, trying and failing to keep the frustration from his tone.

“It’s only when the water’s turned on,” she repeated, brow knitting.

“Correct, Sansa…”

“So it’s a pipe somewhere that draining into it.”

He shrugged. “Right. But without tearing up the floor there’s no way of knowing--”

“Didn’t you say this used to be broken up into separate flats?”

“I mean, it was in the process of being broken up and then the owners went bankrupt, and I bought it on the cheap. Apparently for good reason since the plumbings all fucked.”

“You have to run separate water lines for flats,” she said.

“Yeah… and?”

“And… maybe they started the line and then just plopped it in wherever it would fit when they had to sell the house. Turned off the water so no one would know.”

“They would have to be running a pipe into the basement and directly into the sump pump.

She shrugged. “I mean, did you check for that?”

“No. Because that’s asinine. No one would do that.”

“Will it hurt to check that before you go hiring an expensive plumber and eating into your profit?”

“I guess not…” he trudged through the water and knelt down over the drain. “Guess you’ll get to hold the light for me after all. Just train it right here…” He positioned it where he needed it, squinting down into the flooded chamber under the drain hole.

“They’d have to be really stupid to…” he trailed off when he saw it. A pipe he’d just assumed came from somewhere else in the basement. Except the only drain down here was the one he was currently kneeling over. “What the actual… where does _that_ go?”

“What?” Sansa asked. “Where does _what_ go?”

“This pipe… there’s no laundry sink down here… it’s just this drain.”

Sansa raised her eyebrows. “Well, well, well.”

“Wait here…” he splashed to the stairs and up them two at a time. He found the thing he was looking for in his tool chest upstairs. A seal for the end of the pipe. Reaching down, he screwed it on. “Go turn on that water for me.”

The previous owners couldn’t be that stupid, right? It wasn’t this simple of a fix.

“I swear if this fixes it…” Sansa began.

“I will kiss you,” he finished for her.

He heard her pause slightly on the stairs, only for a short moment before continuing up.

A few moments later, he heard her in the backyard. “Now?”

“Yes, now!” he called.

The pipes groaned to life, and he heard the water begin to flow through the pipes. And…

Nothing.

Nothing bubbled up from beneath him. Nothing at all.

“Holy shit.”

“What? No good? Want me to turn it off?” she asked through the window.

“No, no, it’s fixed! I fixed it. We fixed it!”

Theon wondered if he sounded as surprised as he felt. They’d fixed it.

Sansa really had, but he wasn’t about to admit to that.

“No kidding?” she replied, sounding like she was grinning. He turned to look up at her face in the window.

“No kidding.”

“Woo!” she whooped, leaping to her feet and disappearing from the window.

She bounded down the stairs and directly into his arms for a very damp hug.

He found his hands resting on her lower back as she threw hers around his neck. He squeezed her tightly against him, lifting her up and spinning in the water for a moment before putting her back down.

His eyes captured and held her gaze while they stood there, the water sloshing around them, he suddenly remembered what he’d said. That he’d kiss her if it was fixed. He wondered… if it was possible that she’d be waiting to--

“I need to change,” she said softly.

“What?” he asked. She didn’t either. He liked her just the way she was.

“Clothes. Before we meet my brother at Hammerhead.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah… me too” he said, nodding and slowly releasing her. She turned and walked halfway up the stairs. He didn’t realize he was staring at her arse until she turned back and snickered.

“You coming?”

“Right behind you,” he said, following her up the stairs and out of the house to his truck. He closed and locked the door behind them..

“Wait… before you get in…” he called, reaching into the bed of his truck and producing a folded up tarp that he shook out and spread over the seat.

She snorted. “Right. Wouldn’t want to ruin your upholstery…”

He chuckled a little at that, and climbed into the truck. She followed suit, her shoes in her hand rather than on her feet.

Black heels. Stiletto heels. He’d never really noticed women’s shoes before, but those were…

Fuck, they looked good.

Not… by themselves, but on Sansa. On her feet. Probably on every woman, actually. Not just Sansa.

He tore his thoughts away from the shoes and they rode back to her flat in relative silence. Other than the radio, that is. But Theon didn’t sing along this time.

She was climbing out of his truck when he said it. “Thank you.” the words were kind of quiet, but she stopped walking, her shoes dangling from between her fingers.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, smiling brightly. “Feel like I kind of owe _you_ , but okay.”

“No… I mean, yeah… you owed me. But I figured you’d already paid me back with like… pizza… or letting me sleep on your couch instead of the floor in my work-in-progress. Not climbing into a flooded basement and calming me down enough to solve a problem.”

She shrugged. “Don’t mention it, Theon. I’m gonna go change. I’m wet and wet jeans are cold.”

He laughed. “Yeah… me too. My jeans, I mean. They’re… damp.”

“So come on upstairs,” she said, turning to scurry across the parking lot and up the stairs to her flat.

His shoes squished as he followed, climbing the stairs two at a time to land right beside her as she unlocked her door and deadbolt. He followed her inside.

“Need a shower?” he asked.

“Not as bad as you. The bathroom’s all yours,” she replied. “I’ll just change clothes and touch up my makeup before we leave.”

She breezed by him, somehow still smelling like Sansa and not like his wet basement.

He closed the door and undressed, his clothing falling in a wet heat where he tossed it. The shower felt very warm when he stepped into it.

Almost oppressively so.

And it smelled like Sansa too, of course. There was nothing his shampoo and body wash could do to mask the fact that this was Sansa’s shower.

Sansa’s shower where she bathed every day.

 _Naked_. A voice whispered. So quietly, he might have ignored it, but given the flustered state he was in, he couldn’t.

Something about the way she laughed. The way she dangled her heels from her fingers, her bare feet propped up on his dash.

The way her wet clothes clung to her.

Fuck.

He dunked his face under the rush of water and reached for the faucet to make it cooler.

Cooler water had to help because he was heading for a very frustrating place given that he didn’t have time for a decent wank. His cock didn’t seem to understand that, twitching to life despite the lukewarm water.

He could have a very unsatisfying wank. But she was coming in here right after. Not into the shower, but in here. In the bathroom. Somehow, it felt wrong.

Dirty, and not in a fun way. Something a gross creep would do.

He could control himself, after all. She was his friend. He finished his shower and tried to ignore the heavy feeling. The tug at his spine. The urge to wrap his hand around his member and take care of it.

Theon cursed the fact that he hadn’t brought any clean clothing in with him, so he wrapped Sansa’s towel around his waist, taking extra care to tuck his erection so it wasn’t so apparent if he ran into her in the hallway.

He scooped up the wet pile of work clothes and opened the door.

She was, unfortunately, just walking out of her bedroom when he stepped out into the hall, but she deftly ignored the fact that he was wearing a towel and carrying a soggy lump of clothing in front of him like a shield.

She took his place at the fogged up mirror, leaving the door open as she reapplied makeup and ran a comb through her hair. She spritzed it with something that smelled like coconuts, and that’s when Theon realized he was still standing there in the doorway like a creep, watching her.

He backed away and went to grab some clean, dry clothing and get dressed. Checking his watch after he’d tugged on dry socks, he realized that they were only forty minutes late if they left right then.

She emerged from the bathroom just as he was finishing up with the laces on his trainers. He looked up at her, and up and up and up, gods, she was tall and made entirely out of legs.

She’d styled her hair a bit differently than before, pulling half of it out of her face with a clip. She smiled when his eyes settled on hers.

“Do I look alright?”

Did she expect him to answer that? What with all his awkward staring? Obviously she looked a vision.

“Yeah, you’ll do,” he replied, grinning when she made to swat his shoulder.

“Come on, let’s go. We’re fashionably late.”

* * *

It dawned on him as they were walking into the pub just what it looked like they’d been up to. What with their wet hair and arriving late.

It was the first thing Robb commented on when they sat down. “Oy, you forget how to turn the shower off?”

“At least I take one,” Theon replied, smirking.

Margaery lit up like a light bulb when she saw Sansa, pulling her into the booth beside her and forcing Theon to take the other end. He slid in beside Sansa, draping his arm across the back of the booth behind her.

“We were running late because of that leak in the basement. I finally fixed it,” he said with a grin.

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I was there also.”

“She was. She watched me fix it.”

“What a load of shite, it was _my_ idea.”

“You don’t know anything about plumbing, Sans,” he replied, grinning.

“Neither do you, Theon,” she jibed back, reaching out to poke his ribs repeatedly. He caught her hand and clasped it tightly.

“Fine, you helped. We both fixed it. Happy?”

“Exceedingly,” she replied, smiling widely from ear to ear as he brought his arm down around her shoulders, tugging her close.

He saw Marg and Robb exchange glances, but he deftly ignored it. Marg’s meant more, considering what she knew, but Theon didn’t really care what either of them thought.

“What’ll you have?” the server asked, skidding to a halt at their table. “Is this your _entire_ party? Or do you got a couple more grand marshaling a parade or something?” she asked Robb, clearly annoyed with him for making her wait.

“Yes, this is all of us. Plus Arya, who’s up there flirting with Gendry like it’s her job.”

Theon didn’t really know Gendry all that well other than he owned this bar and had bulging biceps that all the ladies seem to fawn over. But he only appeared to have eyes for Arya. Which he supposed was fine. Considering Arya wanted his eyes all for herself.

Speaking of eyes, the server rolled hers. “He’d hire her for that job if he could, I think. Drinks?”

Sansa ordered. Vodka and cranberry. Easy. Couldn’t mess it up. Theon just ordered a beer, and Robb did the same.

Margaery was the one who switched it up by ordering a Mudslide with extra whipped cream.

“You got it,” the server clicked her pen and turned on her heel to leave.

“You mean to tell me, you weren’t using up all the hot water at my sister’s place? You got her down in the basement doing manual labor?” Robb snorted back a laugh. “It must be true love, then.”

“Shut your face, Robb Stark. You’re the one who was hanging pictures with a potato,” she countered.

“A potato?!” Theon turned towards Robb, infinitely happy for a distraction that didn’t involve his and Sansa’s supposed sex life. “How haven’t I heard of this before?”

“Because it was a _secret_ ,” Robb hissed in Sansa’s direction. “One I didn’t know _you_ knew, Sans. So there’s that. And before you fucking ask, Theon, I didn’t have a hammer.”

“So a _potato_ was the clear replacement?” Theon muttered.

“Shut up,” Robb said.

“Dad told me when I had mono and had to miss the winter formal last year,” Sansa replied with a smirk. “To cheer me up.”

“Fucking _hell_. You’re due for one yourself, you know.”

“One what?” she asked.

“One parental disappointment,” Robb countered. Especially now that you’ve got a boyfriend,” He gestured to Theon. “Have you told Mom and Dad?”

Sansa’s smirk melted away for a moment. “No.”

“You didn’t tell your parents about me?” Theon asked, leaning down to nuzzle against her jaw, noting how her breath caught when he touched her. “You aren’t ashamed of me, are you?”

He knew damn well why she hadn’t, but he couldn’t help teasing her. She made it so easy sometimes.

“Not yet, no. And I’m not ashamed.”

“What? You’re living together and you haven’t told Mom and Dad?” Robb guffawed and smacked the table. “You’re in for it now.”

“You should tell your mum and dad, Sansa…” Margaery said with a barely concealed grin. “It makes it _really_ real when your family knows.”

He felt an unexpected pang of guilt. It stabbed him low in the gut when he thought about Sansa telling her father. Sure, Cat would probably hate this, but it was Ned’s response that got Theon. Why hadn’t he thought about that part of this ruse?

He gulped and tried to center himself back in the moment, but when he did, he saw Sansa shoot Margaery one of her patented Stark-Icy Stares and he was glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of it. Robb had it too, and it was fucking scary.

Ned too, now that he thought about it.

“I’ll tell Mom and Dad later,” Sansa said, abruptly ending the conversation.

“You’d better, or I will,” Robb replied, giving them both a haughty gaze. “I could use a few days being the golden child again.”

“Oh what the fuck ever,” Sansa said with an exasperated roll of her eyes. “Mom dotes on you. Always has. Her first born. Her first _baby_.”

“Yes, and I will counter with Dad. Just Dad. How he let you have a flat? A puppy? You’ve got that man wrapped around your finger. He needs a wake up call. About how his precious baby girl is riding the Kraken.”

“Hey,” Theon reached over and slugged Robb from across the table. “Don’t be an asshole, Stark.”

Robb’s face turned incredulous, a grin spreading. “Ow,” he reached up and rubbed his shoulder.

Margaery broke the ice by slipping down under the table and popping up on the other side. “C’mon, Sans, let’s go say hi to your sister.” She motioned to Sansa, who slipped out the same way, shooting Theon a look before she left. He tried not to pay attention and instead cracked his knuckles in what he hoped was a menacing way.

“Step back, Florian the Fool. She’s said worse to me when she was eight years old. Besides. I was just trying to test you.” Robb smirked. “You _care_ about her.”

“Yeah. So what?” Theon rubbed at a non-existent spot on the table. “You know we’re together.”

“But you _care_. This isn’t a fling. You’re not going to hurt her. Or let anyone else do it either… even though I know my sister better than you do. That, what I just said, didn’t hurt.”

He was right. The Starks were kind of tough on each other, but if anyone else tried it, they’d be on them like their house sigil indicated. Dire wolves hunting prey, the lot of them.

“You know I have to check. Make sure…” Robb continued. “After--”

Robb didn’t have to say the name, he already knew.

Joff.

“Yeah,” Theon replied, wishing his beer was here so he could bury his blushing face in it.

When Sansa and Marg returned, they had the drinks in their hands, Sansa slid both beers in front of himself and Robb, while Marg held hers until she sat down.

Robb got up to let Marg slip in behind him, and Theon grabbed his mug and downed a good bit of it.

“He didn’t hurt my feelings,” Sansa said softly.

“I know he didn’t,” Theon replied, just as softly.

“You don’t have to defend my honor.”

“I know that.”

“I don’t need--”

“I know you don’t,” he countered. “Not right now anyway.” He smiled and she matched the expression, her eyes caressing every bit of his face and lingering on his lips.

Theon had promised her a kiss, after all.

Leaning closer, infinitesimally at first, he inched over until he could brush his lips over hers. Gently. The barest of kisses when he wanted to devour her.

Fuck, when did that happen, exactly? When had he started having feelings like this for her. Had they always been there?

 _No, no…_ he pushed that thought away. _It was just close proximity. Nothing more._

Besides, who was it harming if he let himself lean a little into the fantasy? That she was his and he was hers and they’d carried on a secret affair until now? It was a heady fantasy, and right then, he wanted it. He let himself get carried along just like they were carrying everyone else along.

He didn’t want to start making out in front of her brother, but when she made a soft sound in the back of her throat, he couldn’t help it, he deepened the kiss. Until she stopped him, her hand on his chest and gripping a handful of his t-shirt. He could feel her fingernails scraping his chest, the feeling made every other one retreat. She could have dragged him through the seven hells and back. He’d have gone, no problem.

“What… sorry…” Theon began, noting the scared look in her eyes as she looked over his shoulder, shaking her head.

“It’s not you…” She looked pointedly again behind him. Not at Robb. Someone else. He frowned, turning his head to look where she was looking.

Robb and Marg hadn’t noticed, they were too busy staring into each others’ eyes.

But in the booth directly beside theirs, the mirror of theirs in fact, sat two of Ramsay’s… Theon hesitated to call them friends, but he wasn’t sure what else to call them. They behaved more like attack dogs than anything.

 _Dogs._ That sounded accurate. More so than ‘friend’ at any rate.

Whatever they were, they had their gazes locked on Sansa, and she was physically shaking beside him. He turned, reaching for her and turning her face towards him, two fingers on her jaw. “Hey… look at me. They can’t hurt you, okay?”

Maybe it was the beer that was making him bold.

Because he leaned over and kissed her again, tongue sliding into her mouth, tasting the sharp tang of her vodka and cranberry. It lingered on her lips and buzzed in his mouth. Or he thought it did. Maybe that was just Sansa.

He didn’t care what those dogs told Ramsay.

Even though he was pretty sure they could tell him lots of things that should worry him.

He had plenty of time left in life to worry, but only a limited window to kiss Sansa. So he opted for the latter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AKA, Dinner with the Stark Family.
> 
> This started out as just a filler chapter, but then feelings happened, lots and lots of Sansa feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super big huge thanks to treaddelicately, my awesome beta who let me word vomit about this chapter and then looked over it all morning for me so I could make sure it was as good as it possibly could be. AMAZING, thank you! 
> 
> (And if you haven't already, you should read her Theonsa fic that she wrote, [Put a Little Love on Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23301451). It is PERFECT and gorgeous and everything nice, I promise. Big fic rec right here.)

**SANSA**

* * *

The car ride was relatively quiet, save for Sansa’s playlist on the radio and the way she absent-mindedly hummed along every now and then.

Her mind was a cacophony of noise, though.

The drive to Winterfell wasn’t long. Perhaps fifteen minutes if the roads were clear. And it had been a split-second decision to bring Theon at all. Mum had texted her, telling her that their regular Tuesday night family dinner needed to be pushed to Thursday instead. Would that be alright?

And Sansa turned her phone around and showed Theon the screen. “Do you wanna come too?” she asked.

He was scrolling through something on his own phone, but read the text when she showed him. Then, he shrugged. “Might as well?”

Might as well.

She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel before turning the volume of the music down so she could speak.

They were about five-ish minutes out from Winterfell, and she figured they should at least touch base a little since the extent of their conversation had been “Do you wanna come too?” and “Might as well.”

Theon had been quiet since that night at the bar with Margaery and Robb. (Arya was also there, but she was so far up Gendry’s arse, she practically wasn’t.) It struck Sansa as odd given how very talkative and touchy-feely he’d been while they _were_ there. And before. He’d never had a problem talking to her before.

She thought she’d felt something else in those kisses. Something real. Especially when he’d practically said ‘Fuck Ramsay’ and snogged her silly in front of the gods and everyone at Hammerhead.

The memory actually made her belly swoop a little. Theon was _very_ good at kissing her.

It was hard not to fall back on old habits and wonder what else he was good at, but she didn’t want to make this any weirder than it was already. And given his awkward silent treatment for the past few days, it was already pretty weird.

“You okay?” she asked, returning her hands to the ten and two positions on the steering wheel. She felt Theon shift in his seat before responding.

“Yeah, you?”

She pressed her lips together in a line and nodded. “Yeah, I am. You just seem… quiet is all.”

The silence that followed was one of the thickest, most pregnant pauses in her life. The air was heavy with all the words he didn’t say.

And then he simply responded with a shrug. “Just thinking, I guess.” He chuckled half-heartedly. “Worrying about meeting your parents, I suppose.”

“You’ve known them all your life,” she teased.

“Not as your boyfriend, I haven’t,” he countered.

“Well, for all you know, they won’t care,” she said, feeling a bit half-hearted herself. She knew for a fact that her mother wouldn’t be thrilled with her choice. She’d been after Sansa for years to get out there and date. Reiterating how silly it was to waste away because of one bad relationship. And honestly, she had tried to get out there. She’d even had a boyfriend or two. But soon after the relationships turned sexual, she broke things off. Mostly to keep from having to go through _this_. This whole rigamarole of introducing her beau to her mother and then having to listen to her mother tear them down.

More than once on this relatively short drive, she’d wondered if admitting she’d been duped by Ramsay was preferable to bringing Theon home as her boyfriend, fake though it may be. But she felt solid in her decision. Her family thinking she was a silly fool yet again wasn’t an option.

Of course, she could keep the whole thing a secret from her parents. She could get Robb and Arya on board easily enough.

But Marg was right. It wasn’t real until your folks knew. And they were playing this off like it was real, weren’t they?

Honestly, Sansa wasn’t even sure anymore. _Was_ it fake? Their kisses felt real. But they only happened in front of other people, so… The lines had been blurred so much, she didn’t know much of anything other than her crush was back in full force. And the way his mouth plucked at hers didn’t help matters in the slightest.

Sighing, she shook her head. “Even I know _that’s_ not true…”

Theon sniffed, his mouth crooking up in the corner in one of his trademarked smirks. “Sansa, your mum wasn’t ever thrilled with me. I’ll be fine.”

He was right about that. Mum had never been the biggest fan of Theon Greyjoy. There was a relatively minor incident that stuck out in her mind. He and Robb had been teenagers at the time, but Catelyn Stark never forgot a slight. Real or perceived.

Robb had a little baggie of pot and had been smoking it before driving to pick up Theon.

He was apparently driving at a snail’s pace and had gotten pulled over. They weren’t arrested, but the chief of police had called her father. It wasn’t a scandal _per se_ , but when the Region Representative’s son got pulled over while under the influence, word traveled around.

Robb had insisted that the pot had been _his_. Not Theon’s. In fact, Theon hadn’t even known he was high until he started stopping at stop signs well before the white line.

But Catelyn, never wanting to see anything bad in her oldest son, had convinced herself that Theon was at fault for the incident and never really forgave him for it.

It didn’t help that he’d started running around with Ramsay soon after that and then Dad had to help him out of that wasp’s nest.

Sansa didn’t really respond, but it was because she was pulling into the driveway of her family home. There were more important matters than rehashing the past and reiterating a fact they both knew to be true.

Still gripping the steering wheel, she tried to imagine every possible scenario involving her mother today, but her brain felt like it was buzzing.

“Hey…” Theon’s hand appeared on hers, squeezing. “You parked. We’re here, Sans.”

When she turned to face him, his eyes looked so kind. So wide. So concerned.

She leaned forward and tangled her hand in the hair on the back of his head, pulling him forward and latching onto him for a searing kiss. He moaned into her mouth, possibly tried to talk. To ask her what in the seven hells she was doing, but she didn’t really know.

What came out of her mouth was pure bullshit, though. She gasped words between kisses as she shifted in her seat to reach him better.

“Practicing. So we. Look. Believable.” When he pushed his tongue into her mouth, she sucked on the end of it, causing a heated groan to bubble up out of him and wash over her. She knew she was talking out of her arse because she wasn’t going to suck on Theon’s tongue in front of her parents.

He didn’t argue with her, though, just moved closer, his hand creeping up to smooth over the back of her head, anchoring him in place while her kisses became more demanding. More hungry. He met her with equal vigor, teeth dragging over her bottom lip and drawing a needy sound from her with incredible ease.

Her phone buzzed on the dash where she had it streaming music. A quick glance told her it was a text from Arya. Likely asking where they were. She ignored it, tilting her head to give Theon better access to her mouth. He moved one hand to the back of her head, threading his fingers through her hair.

The other one moved up her thigh and she reached down to entwine their fingers.

It buzzed again, but she didn’t even look at it this time because she’d pushed her tongue into Theon’s mouth and he’d grunted softly, deepening the kiss like he was trying to drink her up and she couldn’t think about anything else.

Fuck, he was so good at that, keeping her from thinking about anything else.

The phone rang a few seconds later, and she knew she couldn’t ignore it anymore.

She broke off the kiss but kept her eyes on Theon’s when she answered the phone, wondering if she looked as thoroughly debauched as he did. If her lips were pink and swollen like his were.

“Hello?” she spoke into the receiver, a little winded, but hopefully, it wasn’t noticeable.

“What’s your ETA? We’re all waiting here,” Robb asked, not bothering to say hello.

Rolling her eyes, Sansa answered. “I’m driving, do you want me to wrap this car around a tree? We’ll be there soon.”

Her brother snickered. “Yeah… we can see you in the driveway sucking face. Get in here.”

She closed her eyes for a long moment, taking a deep breath.

Sansa could hear Robb chuckling, and Arya in the background. There were other voices as well, and she could only imagine Bran’s face, having a nice big laugh at her expense.

Well, she wasn’t sorry. They’d added another layer of protection to their fake relationship so whatever. Let them laugh. She was pretty damn sure none of them had ever made out with Theon Greyjoy, so…

“What is it?” Theon asked, reaching up to wipe his hand over his mouth.

“Robb. They’re at the window, wave.”

He snickered, leaning forward to peer out the windshield. He blew kisses to the Starks in the window. Even going so far as to go into as animated a formal bow as he could while in the passenger seat of her car.

“Stop it,” she hissed, swatting him.

He shot her a look. “What? _You_ knew they were there. I can’t play it up a little?”

Her eyes widened in shock. She absolutely hadn’t seen them, but if she admitted that now, how would she explain the kiss? “I mean… yeah. Yeah, I saw them.”

“Let me in on your plots from now on, though. I might get the wrong idea about you leaping into my lap, Sans.”

He grinned in that way he had. That Theon Greyjoy brand of asshole grin. And Sansa suddenly felt sick.

Theon had thought she knew they were being watched. Which meant he was acting just now. Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “There wasn’t time. Sorry.” She grinned as well, and hopefully, it reached her eyes. He stared at her for a long moment.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just nervous about my mum. She can be kind of...” she trailed off.

He snorted. “Sansa, I _live_ in fear of Catelyn Stark, so I know exactly how she can be. C’mon, let’s go give her something to stroke out over.”

She laughed again, but it felt empty and hollow, but Theon didn’t seem to notice, he was already hopping out of the car, sending a wave and a tiny salute to Arya, who was still watching them from the back window.

He reached Sansa’s door, tugging it open and offering his hand. “You coming in, or do I just go do this without you?”

She took his hand, trying not to concentrate how warm it was. She stepped up onto the porch and headed for the door, her hand limply hanging in his the entire way.

It was nerves. Nerves about her mother. Not anything to do with the fact that he was acting before. She didn’t have real feelings for Theon. She didn’t. She wasn’t hurt. She was nervous.

Taking a deep breath and swallowing back the lump in her throat, she wondered why anyone believed her lies when she didn’t even believe them herself.

She suddenly longed for Margaery. Another co-conspirator would have been a welcome sight upon entering Winterfell. But Robb hadn’t asked Marg to join them this time. He said it both felt too soon, and he didn’t want Marg’s first visit to happen at the same time as Theon’s. It went without saying that they were conflicting statements. Sansa held the opinion that he’d asked Marg, who had bluntly told him under no circumstances would she find herself meeting his parents when they hadn’t even shagged yet, but Sansa hadn’t really brought it up with her friend either, so she couldn’t be sure.

It sounded completely on-brand for her brother to jump the gun and invite Margaery to meet his parents when all they’d done was meet for drinks with a group and snog in her office. In his mind, he was planning their wedding, Marg just thought he was cute.

But she couldn’t really focus on that when they entered the house and turned to hang up their coats on the tree by the front door. Sansa removed her ballet flats and slipped them into the basket on the floor. She wiggled her toes in her socks and turned to look at Theon.

“But if she wields a knife on me, I won’t be able to run if I leave my trainers here,” he whispered, smirking.

Gods, Sansa both loved and hated that look.

“Stop. She won’t. If you scuff up her hardwood floors with your shoes, she definitely will strangle you, though.”

He shot her an incredulous look and bent to untie his shoes and leave them in the basket as well. “She cares more about scuffing up her floors or her daughter? Because I think--”

“I’m not scuffed,” Sansa snapped.

“I was just trying to make a joke, Sans.”

“I know what you were doing. I don’t appreciate being compared to the _floor_.”

His face was like an open book. Confusion and concern washed over him. “I didn’t mean to imply… I’m sorry.”

She pressed her lips together, that lump rising in her throat again. “No, I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I’m just… on edge.”

He nodded slowly. “I know… would a hug help?”

It wouldn’t. It’d make this all the more difficult. It felt like he was branding her with every embrace. Wounds that didn’t hurt yet, but would hurt like hell when she had to heal. But she wasn’t going to reproach him for trying to make her feel better. Especially when he didn’t know what she was really upset about.

 _She_ didn’t even know what she was really upset about, actually.

So instead, she nodded and ducked into his embrace, trying to live in the moment and take it for what it was. A gesture of friendship. He gathered her hair in one hand and moved it to the side so he could whisper in her ear. “Look, I know you think you’re all alone here, but you’re not, okay?”

Honestly, he couldn’t know how truly alone she felt.

She felt like coming clean to the whole lot of them. Telling her siblings and her parents that she’d been seduced and duped by Ramsay Bolton. That he’d been cutting coke on her coffee table and had stolen her bank card and all the funds in it as well. That she’d gotten it all back because of Theon’s quick thinking, but that she was hopeless and utterly unprepared to live on her own.

Then her mother would insist she come home, and she’d either have to drop out of college for a semester, or take her classes online, and once again, she’d be that ‘poor little Sansa’ who couldn’t spot a wolf in sheep’s clothing because she was too interested in the quality of the wool.

She knit her brow. No. No, she wouldn’t either. She wasn’t going back to being that person again. She wasn’t. She was going to see this through until a logical end, and then she was going to move on with her life. She wasn’t entirely certain what she was going to do, but it didn’t matter. Sansa had marketable skills. She’d figure out how to use them, and then…

She squeezed Theon back and stepped out of the embrace. “Thank you.”

“No problem…” His hands were still on her shoulders. “You sure you’re okay?”

She smiled with a bit more ease this time. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Okay…” he nodded and dropped his hands. “You ready to go in there?”

She didn’t get a chance to answer him because Catelyn was bustling through the doorway, bringing with her that comforting scent of lemon and vanilla that told Sansa she was home. It was comforting, but at the same time, ratcheted up her anxiety.

“Are you going to spend the whole night in the entryway?” her mother asked, laughing a little when she pulled Sansa in for a hug. She sniffed, turning to smell Sansa’s hair and pulled back, a grimace on her face. “Are you _smoking_? You smell like cigarettes…” The last word came out stuttering through a gasp. She’d turned and seen Theon standing there in the doorway. “Oh… hello, Theon.”

Her voice had chilled entirely. But she spoke again before either of them could. “Robb didn’t tell me you were coming…” Sansa swore her mum could have a conversation without another soul breathing a word and be completely satisfied with her social interaction.

Theon opened his mouth then, but her mother let go of her shoulders and breezed past the both of them to the door, which she opened and peeked out at the driveway, likely looking for Theon’s truck. Which, wasn’t there. When she turned back, her eyes were practically slits. She glared between the two of them and stormed out of the entryway.

Once she was gone, Theon let out a breath of relief. “Thought sure she’d skin me alive if she thought I was touching you. The silent treatment’s the best-case scenario here.”

Sansa pressed her lips together and took off after her mother. Her hair fluttered when she moved, and she nearly ran smack into Robb and Arya in the hallway.

Robb’s hands shot out to still her movement. “Sansa, dear sister. We’re all waiting in the family room, why don’t you two join us?”

She narrowed her eyes and saw him flinch when she looked at him. Her mother’s icy glare was hereditary. “I’m going to speak to mum.”

“I think you both need to cool down. Come in with us. Rickon’s home and we’re going to play a bit of Uno before dinner. With three decks, so it’s thrice as rage-inducing.”

“My rage levels are maxed out,” she muttered.

“Sans…” Robb’s voice was gentler, softer when he addressed her this time. “Just come with us.”

“Isn’t this what the both of you wanted?” Sansa spat, leveling her gaze at Arya too.

“Hey. HEY, don’t turn that thing at me,” Arya said. “I’m immune.”

“To _mom’s_. You haven’t seen mine enough to build up an immunity,” Sansa hissed.

“Hey, Sansa…” Bran called from the room behind Robb and Arya. “Ygritte’s here! You guys can gang up on Jon again!”

She pressed her lips together and shrugged out of Robb’s hold, the socks on her feet dampening the sound as she moved into the kitchen, not paying a lick of attention to any of her siblings’ protests.

Her mother couldn’t just _do_ anything she wanted and get her way anymore. Sansa was an adult, she was going to demand respect. For herself, and her guest.

She entered the kitchen, hit with the enticing smell of the roast her mother had prepared. The onions and garlic were sharp and pungent hanging in the air. Salad veggies were laid out on the cutting board.

“Sansa, I can’t believe you,” Mum started immediately without looking up. As if she’d known her daughter would follow her in.

“Where’s dad?” she asked, wondering if he was going to swoop in and soften the blows at all, or if she could speak as she wished.

“Don’t bring him into this, he’s going to agree with me,” Cat shrilled.

“Fine, go ahead, I can tell you want to start in on me. Wouldn’t want to deny you the pleasure.”

“The pleasure? Do you think it’s a pleasure to see my oldest daughter throw her entire life away on… on _Theon Greyjoy_?” the last part, she hissed, more than a bit quieter than the rest. Like the other people down the hall couldn’t guess what she was talking about.

Sansa waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. Instead, she stared expectantly, like she thought Sansa should contribute here. But she didn’t.

“I thought for certain you’d have some explanation for why he’s with you. His truck broke down. You found him stranded on the side of the road. He had a gun to your head. _Something_!”

“Gods, mum. We’re dating, okay? We’re dating.”

“Sansa…” her mother practically bemoaned. Her disappointment was clear and concise in the two syllables of her name. “Sansa… he… and Robb? The drugs?”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “You need to accept that your precious Robb _can_ do wrong, and did do wrong, and admitted freely to doing wrong in that particular instance. Besides, Theon doesn’t smoke that anymore. He only smokes… regular cigarettes.” She arched an eyebrow and folded her arms over her chest, squaring her shoulders.

“How do you know? Are you with him all the time?”

Ah, that was a loaded question. Cat thought she was being so sneaky. As if Sansa didn’t want her knowing exactly what she was up to

“A fair amount of it,” she replied, a small smirk settling on her lips. Perhaps some of Theon’s salt had rubbed off on her.

Cat looked like she was going to be sick. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, looking very much like her Tully-Family crest before replying. “You know he sleeps around.”

The words cut, even though Sansa knew that it wasn’t true, not for a while at least. But he _had_ admitted to bringing women back to his blanket nest on the floor and the women stayed the night there, so he must do _something_ they liked…

Gods, that thought hurt more than what Mum had said.

“Not currently,” she replied curtly.

Cat turned and opened a cabinet, pulling glasses down onto the countertop. “Sansa… if you wanted to irk me, you could have gotten a tiny tattoo on your ankle or something. Pierce your nose. _Not_ leap into bed with Theon Greyjoy.”

“I could do much worse,” Sansa countered. “He’s kind to me.”

“I’m sure he is, while he’s getting everything he wants.”

Sansa closed her eyes. If her mother only knew exactly what Theon was doing for her. How much she was getting from him and not vice versa. She could leave this to lie, and walk away now. Or she could grab a shovel and dig herself a little deeper. If it gave Theon more brownie points in her mother’s eyes. She’d do it. He deserved at least that. Even if he wasn’t growing feelings for her like she was for him, he deserved more than what her mother thought of him.

She grabbed a shovel.

“The last person I dated seriously treated me like garbage if you’ll remember. He coerced me into sending lewd pictures and then distributed them,” she said bluntly. “Or have you forgotten?”

Mum tilted her head sympathetically. “Joffrey’s a little gremlin who got to see the business end of myself and your father. But you aren’t with him anymore. You aren’t garbage, so why are you degrading yourself further?”

“Further?” Sansa gasped. “Are you kidding me?”

Cat waved her hand vaguely. “I didn’t mean that the way it came out. Obviously Theon is better than Joffrey, but Sansa--”

“I’m happy, you know,” Sansa said, fighting to keep her voice even and low. She narrowed her eyes. “Do you even care?”

Cat turned and reached out to brush her hand over Sansa’s cheek. “Of course I care. I just know that if you’re happy with him now, you won’t be for long, and I don’t want you to get your heart broken.”

Sansa set her jaw. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“I mean… he’s fun for a bit, but once you’re ready to settle down, he’s not going to come through for you.”

“And you say this because you know him _so well_?” She could almost laugh. What her mother didn’t know about Theon Greyjoy could fill a book _and_ its sequel.

“I say this because he’s…” Mum stopped for a long moment as if cherry-picking her words very carefully. “He’s got no future.”

“He owns his own business.”

“Sansa, he _flips houses_ ,” Cat sighed. Like _that_ in and of itself was something to be looked down upon.

“Dad was a contractor before he went into politics,” Sansa stammered. “That’s what he did when I was a child.”

“And he moved that into a political career. Do you think Theon could do that?” Cat shook her head. “He’s not from here, no one would vote for him.”

“He doesn’t want to go into politics, he wants to build things. And he does. I’ve seen him practically rebuild a house from bare bones. He knows how to do it all, Mum. He puts in a lot of work and he does fairly well.”

“Fairly well won’t put food on the table.”

“Yes, it will. That’s the definition of fairly well,” Sansa replied through clenched teeth. “Just say what you really mean.”

Catelyn glanced behind her, likely checking to see if the coast was clear. “He’s _trash_ ,” she whispered. “His father was trash, and he is as well.”

Anger surged through her veins. How dare she say something so awful?

Gods, she already knew how. Catelyn was of the antiquated mindset that one’s family set in stone what one actually was. And Theon’s father _had_ been trash, Theon would be the first person to agree with that sentiment. But he wasn’t anything like his father had been.

Somehow she kept her voice even. Too even. It was like she was walking smoothly on hot coals and tempting Cat to join her. “No. He’s kind, helpful, selfless, and warm. The only one acting like trash here is _you_ , Mum.”

Cat inhaled sharply, rounding on her, finger pointed directly in her face. “Now look here, Sansa. Just because you’ve got what you _think_ is a good lay doesn’t mean you know everything. I’ve lived longer. I know what I’m talking about. He’s fun for now, but he’s trash by blood, and you’ll end up seeing that soon enough.”

“Ummmm, Mum?” A timid voice spoke from the doorway. Sansa and Cat both turned to look at the speaker, her little brother Rickon, who wasn’t so little anymore, but had most definitely drawn the short lot and had to come out and interrupt them. “We’re hungry.” He turned and waved at his sister. “Heya, Sans.”

She couldn’t help but shoot him a warm half of a smile.

Cat reached for the potholders, slamming the oven door open and plucking out the roast. She plunked it down on the trivet on the table. “Dinner!” she called. Her eyes glaring sharp daggers at Sansa.

“Sorry, Mum…” Rickon mumbled.

“Oh, sweetheart… I’m not upset with you. You aren’t ruining _your_ life.”

Sansa pressed her lips together and went to the silverware drawer to pull out a handful of forks. “No silverware,” she groused, letting the forks land in a loud and messy pile on the end of the table.

“Yes, set the table, won’t you, Sansa?” Catelyn smiled in a very sickly sweet way and went back to grab the sides from the microwave and the oven top. “There’s a love. Shouldn’t need steak knives, this roast just _falls_ off the bone.” She stuck a serving fork in it to punctuate.

Smart of her to nix the knives. Sansa would have probably thrown them at her.

Everyone filed in, sans Theon. Arya mimed two fingers in front of her lips--he was out smoking--and jutted her head towards the family room. There was a side door out to a patio. Sansa left the room, heading to the side patio. She sucked in the cold air as she stepped outside.

Judging by the length still on his cigarette he hadn’t been out there long. He’d probably heard everything.

“Theon--”

“If you want, I can just wait out here until you’re through eating, and we can leave after? Unless you’d rather if I just called an Uber or something.”

“No,” she said, surprised. “No, I don’t want that.”

He took a puff from the cigarette, looking back at her. “Sans. Is this really better than your family finding out about Ramsay? Honestly, I feel like your mum would throw a party if we told them this was a sham.”

She pressed her lips together. “What, so I can admit that I’m just silly little Sansa still? That I can’t fend for myself in the real world any better than I could when I got into the exchange program in high school? When I went down to King’s Landing and let Joffrey coerce me into something stupid? That I’m just a naive little bird still unable to fly on her own?” Her lips were trembling, and her words were harsh on her throat as she fought to keep the wobble out of her voice.

“No, no…no… gods, is that what you think of yourself?” he asked, reaching out with one arm to slip it around her shoulders. He tugged her flush against his side. He was warm, and she knew she shouldn’t really lean into the comfort right now, not when they were alone and she could read into his actions.

“Isn’t that right?” she asked, leaning into his warmth anyway. “Isn’t that what I am?”

“No,” he answered quickly. “No, you’ve a good heart inside you, Sans. You want to find the best in people. That’s a wonderful trait. Makes you a wonderful person to know. If more people were like you, then… well…” He took another drag, careful to blow it in the opposite direction of her face. “People like Ramsay wouldn’t find a foothold.”

“Or people like Ramsay would have a banner year because they could take anything they wanted and no one would stop them,” she replied glumly.

He turned to face her, his cigarette still comically extended as far away from them as he was able. She could feel him looking at her, but she was focusing on one of the concrete garden gnomes. She couldn’t look at him right now. All she really wanted was to bury herself under a blanket away from everyone else. “Listen to me, Sansa. I won’t make you look at me, because I can tell you don’t want to. So listen. After the shit Joffrey put you through, after growing up with a mother like that, after Ramsay doing everything he did… you’re still an absolute pleasure to be around. You _still_ look for the best in people. You can still _see_ it. That’s what so fucking spectacular about you, Sans. You can look at me and see someone trying their hardest, not every single mistake I’ve ever made. You’re fucking amazing, love.”

His words made her feel warm. And he leaned forward then and stubbed the cigarette out on the garden gnome’s nose, leaving a soot spot that made her giggle. “C’mon, let’s go have dinner, darling.”

She stayed where she was, smelling the acrid smell of the smoke and knowing they’d both be reeking of it when they went back inside. _If_ they did. Maybe they could just leave now… she’d be fine with that.

“We could just go,” she murmured. “Grab dinner once we get back to my place.”

“Nah, I think this is important for you. And it’s not very Stark of you to retreat from your problems.”

“Maybe Starks should retreat more often.”

Theon chuckled. “You wouldn’t be Starks then. Come on. I can take whatever your mum can dish out, I’ve had my ciggie.”

She snorted and started towards the door. He reached down and grabbed her hand before opening the door for her. “After you.”

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. And meant it. She just hoped Theon could read between the lines.

They were the last two to sit down, and to his credit, Theon was the perfect gentleman. He thanked Catelyn for the meal and remarked on how nice it smelled. He did everything short of falling at her feet, and she didn’t give him a second look. She straight-up ignored his presence, deciding instead to turn towards Ned and address him instead.

Everyone else was dead silent. Even Ygritte, who was notorious for her outspokenness. She did shoot Sansa a sympathetic look, which when coming from Ygritte, felt sort of nice.

Jon was in her corner as well, smiling at her before asking Theon how work was coming on his house.

Theon was about to bring up the plumbing incident when Cat deftly interrupted him. “Ned, why don’t you ask Sansa how she’s been? Hmm?”

“That was rude,” Sansa began. “Theon was talking.”

“Was he? I didn’t notice,” Cat replied, spearing a potato with her fork and biting down. “By all means, Theon. Continue.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Jon had asked me a question and--”

“Ned?” Cat turned back to Ned, who looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him up.

“Sansa?” He asked. “Alright?”

“Perfectly fine, Dad. Everything’s great.”

“Good. Glad to hear it,” he smiled and then turned to Theon. “Finish telling us about the house, you sounded like you were about to hit on something interesting there.”

Sansa’s eyes widened, and she searched out Arya, whose face looked identical.

Ned had cast his lot. And it wasn’t with Cat for once.

Mum, for her part, didn’t interrupt Theon again, but simply waited for the second he finished speaking, pausing to take a drink and she rounded on Ned once more. “Darling? Ask Sansa about her job.”

“The Tyrells fire you yet?” he asked, clearly joking.

Sansa felt a knot of tension release in her shoulders as she smiled, shaking her head. “No, still working.”

“Good. Gods know these northerners need someone to provide their houseplants.”

Sansa actually grinned at her father. It was possible she’d never loved him more than she did in that moment.

Everything was silent for a long moment, and then Cat turned to Ned. “Ned, why don’t you ask Sansa about her love life?”

“Why don’t _you_ ask her, Cat? I know everything I need to.”

“Perhaps I would if I didn’t already know.”

“Then why are you badgering _me_ to ask?”

Her mother sucked in her breath and held it, jabbing her fork into her salad so hard it squeaked on the plate. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. It won’t amount to anything anyway.”

It was bait. Sansa knew it was bait. She knew her mother was pressing her buttons and waiting for a response. The fact that she was correct in her assumption that she and Theon wouldn't last stung more than anything else.

Sansa slammed her fork down on the table. “You’ll have to excuse me.”

“Not without finishing that food,” Cat rapped her fork on her plate. “We don’t waste food in this house, Sansa Lyanne.”

She set her jaw and stood. “I’ve lost my appetite… seems like I’ve just been feeling like _trash_ lately.” Turning away from her mother’s awe-stricken face, she addressed Theon. “I’ll be in the car.”

He wasn’t far behind her, leaving his barely half-eaten food on the table as they left. She pulled on her shoes and opened the door, with Theon jogging after her, his trainers in hand.

They were already backing out when Catelyn came to the door, calling out to stop them. They pulled down the dark street in silence, with Sansa breathing hard and trying not to burst into tears from the sheer excitement of it.

Her heart was pounding. Her fingers were tingling. She wrapped them tighter around the wheel.

“You okay?” Theon asked. His voice low and gentle, rumbling louder than the music that had synced up as soon as she’d started the car.

She nodded, smiling a little. “Yeah… little shaky, but… that felt good. Thank you.”

“For what?” he laughed. “I didn’t do very much back there. Other than bear the brunt of the insults.”

“No, I mean… for the pep talk before we went back in. And for sticking with me through this. Because you didn’t have to put up with my mum.”

“You didn’t have to stick up for me, either,” he countered. “I don’t care what your mum thinks of me.”

“Well, I do,” she replied. “I do.”

“Why?” he laughed. “I know we’re pretending here, so let’s call a spade a spade. When we end it, she’s going to be happy, it’s a clear win for you.”

Sansa knew exactly why she’d done it. She did it because Theon was a good man. Because he didn’t deserve any of her mum’s vitriol. She did it because she thought better of Theon. Besides, she liked him. She loved… his friendship. Each insult felt like a slight against her as well. A slight against her judgment.

_Sounds like you love more than just his friendship._

“I,” she began as an argument against the thought that had just entered her mind but realized very quickly that she’d said it aloud. “I am just that kind of person. It’s how I am.”

He didn’t say anything in response, so she’d either stunned him into silence or he knew she was lying.

“You owe me a burger, Stark.”

She wasn’t expecting that. She glanced over at him, he was grinning in that laid back, Theon-way.

Honestly, sometimes he was so pretty it hurt to look at him.

“I do?”

“Yeah. You dragged me out and I hadn’t finished my fucking meal.”

“Wasn’t aware that you’d be so livid about my mum’s pot roast.”

“I was hungry,” he insisted. “Where are we on that burger? Chips too, now that I’m thinking about it.”

She snorted. “You think you deserve chips too?”

“Absolutely.”

“Fine, but you’re getting a milkshake too, I have to insist. It’s what you deserve.”

He laughed and she smiled too. “You’re ordering the same. You ate less than I did. Plus, I don’t want to look like a hog eating while you’re sitting there on your phone.”

“Fine. First burger place I see. I’ll stop.”

“Too right you will.” He reached for her phone. “You got other music on here?”

“No,” she deadpanned. “That’s it.”

“Yeah, I’m changing it. Your stuff’s too sad and chicky.”

“Chicky?”

“Yup. Sorry about it, Sans.”

She took a deep breath and let it out again. She still wasn’t sure what the fuck she was doing. But at least she’d sort of saved face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! <3 <3 <3 Let me know if you liked it! <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one was so difficult to write... they kept trying to do things I didn't want them to do? 
> 
> I also took prompts for my birthday, so I've been writing those alongside this. Maybe to put off having to write this chapter? Maybe not? I don't pretend to have any idea what my creative process, or lack thereof, actually is, sooooooooooo...
> 
> Also, more Ramsay in this chapter so be warned. He's such a prick, Istg. I'm trying to keep him to a minimum because this isn't his story and he doesn't deserve to speak very much. But he's such an overbearing presence that he kind of looms bigger than he actually is, so whenever he's in the scene, I kind of grimace a little and hope I'm not letting him say too much.
> 
> The chapter I can't wait to write is the next one. Chapter 7. !!!!! So I'll probably be starting on that asap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big huge thanks to my beta, treaddelicately. She is amazing and wonderful as I scream to her about this fic and these two beautiful idiots. (I mean, let's face it, they're being idiots at this point). I love you, BB, and thank you for holding my hand while I write this.

**THEON**

* * *

Theon’s back ached, and his foot was starting to go numb, but this had to be done. The staircase was wobbly.

Well, it did have to be done eventually, maybe not today, but he didn’t want to _think_ right now. The thinking thing was hard when he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what he wanted to focus on. His mind was full of too many things that he didn’t want to contemplate right now.

First and foremost on that list, the woman whose hair he’d found stuck to his shirt that morning. It was undoubtedly Sansa’s. Over a foot long and auburn gold.

It had been stuck to his shirt because he was _still_ sleeping on her couch, and _that_ was because he just didn’t want to come back here. To the house he owned. Even though he had the water running now.

His reasons _why_ were yet another topic he didn’t want to dwell on.

He shook the banister, frowning when it still wriggled. That wouldn’t do. It had to be sturdy. The first thing potential buyers would do is raise their eyebrows at a shaky staircase. He didn’t have to turn around and test the handrail. He already knew that was acting like it was anchored in a plum pudding.

The uncarpeted stairs were pretty uncomfortable to sit upon, but it couldn’t be helped. As he pushed up to his feet, he cracked his back before descending to the first floor and kneeling to search through his toolbox for drywall anchors. He’d have to redo the entire thing. It’d be easier to just put new drywall anchors in than to blindly try to reinforce the ones that were there.

He tried to tell himself that he’d leave Sansa’s after he fixed this problem, but he knew it wasn’t true.

In his defense, Sansa hadn’t asked him to leave either. They’d both grown rather comfortable with their current arrangement. And if he’d learned anything in his time of home renovations, it was that if something wasn’t broken, don’t even attempt to fix it, because you’ll end up with a much bigger problem.

And if there was a bigger problem than what he was suffering through now, he didn’t want to know. Theon got a pain in his chest whenever he looked at her. It rolled through him like a wave of fire, touching every single part of his insides and leaving them raw and exposed. It felt as if his heart was beating outside his chest.

Drowned God be damned, ever since the dinner at her parents’ house, he’d been this way. A sad little husk of a man who lived for sharing the same air as a woman who thought they were just friends.

It happened with no warning, whether they were just talking, or whenever they did something so painfully domestic he’d have run screaming in the other direction if it was anyone else.

"He spent enough time dwelling on it while he was looking at Sansa. All he wanted to do now that he was alone was _not_ think about it."

He found the drywall anchors and grabbed his drill from its charging dock. Removing the hand railing was going to be easy. Maybe twenty minutes of work if the drywall was in good condition.

And it was. It was in good condition. Thank the Drowned God for that. He didn’t fucking feel like replacing the drywall. He’d already done so upstairs, and it definitely wasn’t his favourite activity.

The old anchors fell onto the stairs with little plinks, leaving a pile of drywall dust as well. The new anchors went in and once he’d reattached the railing, it didn’t wobble. It didn’t move.

Sighing in relief, he went to pick up the spent anchor on his way down the stairs, only to stop when someone knocked on the door.

Frowning, he reached for his phone to check the time. It was after four. Robb wouldn’t be off work yet. Jon had just gone in. He wasn’t expecting any deliveries.

He recognized the silhouette in the frosted glass on the front door, and it made his stomach drop down to his feet, but he opened it anyway.

“Hello, Mr. Stark…”

Ned chuckled. “Theon. I’d tell you to call me Ned, but you never ever have, have you?”

Theon laughed nervously and stepped back. “Would you like to come in? It’s kind of a mess but…”

“If you don’t mind,” Ned stepped into the living room, glancing around the house. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”

“Yeah, I mean… I’m trying to be.”

“Sansa said you just fixed some pipes in the basement?”

Theon laughed. “Yeah, I mean… not so much fixed as realized what the previous owners wrecked.”

“That’s half of house renovating, though. Figuring out the mistakes of the past and fixing them.”

They were slowly walking towards the kitchen, which had the most natural light this time of day, so when they got there, they both sort of slowed down.

“You just in the area, or…?” Theon asked.

“Oh, yeah. Yes. I keep meaning to come for a visit and see what you’re up to, and today, I had a cancellation, so I could make it down here. Looks really good in here.”

“You’re just here to inspect my work? I mean… I’ll give you a tour if that’s what you’re after…”

Ned smiled, looking at him for a long moment before nodding. “A tour would be brilliant. But you’re right. I have ulterior motives.”

 _Ah, here it comes,_ Theon thought. _The ‘please stop shacking up with my daughter’ talk._

“You wanna get those out of the way before the tour?” Theon asked.

“I can do it during.”

Theon let out a sound that might have been laughter, but honestly, he wasn’t sure what it was. It could have been a laugh, but it was just as likely to be a sound of distress. He wasn’t sure anymore. “So this is the kitchen then. It’ll have a dinette eventually. Built in breakfast nook over there…” He gestured towards the large windows along the back wall.

“You’re building that yourself?” Ned asked.

“Planning on it, yeah.”

Ned nodded in approval and Theon walked out one of the two doors on the north side of the kitchen. Not the one they’d come in through. “This is just a hallway, that’s the master bedroom there, it’s got a half bath in it. I haven’t done much in there, needs something, not sure what yet…” He stepped into the room and Ned followed, looking around.

“It’s got this paneling, not sure what to do with that… and the ceiling’s just…

He wrinkled his nose and looked up.

Ned followed suit. “Do you mind if I give you some advice?” he asked.

“Not at all,” Theon replied, actually anxious to hear what Ned had to say on the topic since he’d made his early living doing this.

“What’s up there, above this?” Ned asked.

“Nothing. Crawlspace.”

“If you have time, do a vaulted ceiling. Check the insulation situation up there and just knock all this out. It’ll look less cramped. More master of a bedroom.” Ned shrugged. “If you want. Like I said, it was just a suggestion.”

Theon’s eyebrows rose as he tried to envision it. “Actually…” He walked more fully into the room, looking straight up. “Actually, yeah, that’d… that’d look pretty good actually…” he huffed out a laugh. “Thank you, ser.”

Ned smiled and shook his head. “Nah, thank you. I wish I was still doing this sometimes.”

He still hadn’t mentioned why he was here, but Theon decided not to press the topic.

“You know… I’m actually really proud that you went into this line of work. I was disappointed that Robb never did, but…” he trailed off and shook his head. “Did you know he tried to hammer a nail with a potato?”

Theon laughed. Sansa had mentioned that too. “I’ve heard about that, yeah. That’s why I rarely ask him to help. Only if I need help holding something. Arya’s my go-to for actual help.”

Ned laughed. “That’s a good call, actually. Good call.”

Theon felt a lump rise in his throat. Ned was _proud_? Of him? Why?

“You’re a good lad, Theon.” Ned continued, making him feel like he wanted to either cry or vomit. What was he doing? “My favourite of Sansa’s boyfriends actually.”

That wasn’t a difficult group to be the best of, now that he was thinking about it. But he wasn’t actually Sansa’s boyfriend. Just a guy who was pretending to be and getting off on kissing her. Thinking about her while he was in the shower. And every other time his mind wandered.

Fuck, he was gross.

“I… uh…” Theon was pretty sure his face was red, but Ned barrelled forward.

“Yeah, you are. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. You’ve made a life for yourself. You’ve really grown up these past few years.”

There was an unspoken end to that sentence and Theon could fill it in without thinking.

_You’ve really grown up these past few years since you came to me for help._

He swallowed thickly, still looking up at the popcorn ceiling in the master bedroom as the memory came sliding back into his mind like it was Tom Cruise in Risky Business.

He’d been scared. Theon didn’t let on, but he was scared a lot in those days. But he was so scared that he’d left the shithole where he’d been staying and snuck up to Winterfell. He’d thrown rocks at Robb’s window until he opened it, frowning at him because he hadn’t seen Theon in months.

_“Theon?” Robb hissed._

_“Yeah, it’s me… can you come down?”_

_“It’s three in the morning, mate.”_

_“_ You’re _still awake,” Theon countered._

_“Yeah… hold on…” Robb had ducked back inside and soon he was standing beside him, that familiar look of worry on his face while he scanned him from head to toe. “You look skinny. You eating?”_

_Not much. The words stuck in his throat, so he just skipped them. Ignored the question and moved on._

_“I need help.”_

_Robb’s eyes widened. “Anything. Anything, mate. What do you need?”_

_A lump rose in his throat. Whatever he’d been expecting from his oldest friend, it wasn’t this. It wasn’t open arms when he’d been at most, ghosting him. At best, he was being a dick. He deserved nothing from Robb, but here he was, giving it anyway._

_“Fuck, I don’t even know,” he blurted, tears starting to fall before he could stop them._

_He told him everything. How he owed more money than he could make, and how he’d bought so many pills on credit from this bloke Ramsay knew and now he was calling in his debt and he didn’t know what to do other than run._

_“You need money?” Robb asked. “Money’s easy. Let’s go ask Dad.”_

_Theon sniffed, looking at him in abject horror. “No? No. I couldn’t… I just need… I need to leave. Go back to Pike for a while, maybe? I just need money for a bus ticket.”_

_“Back to Pike? Fuck no, Theon. You hate it there. Your father’s a bigger prick than you are.”_

_Theon huffed out a laugh. He deserved that. He was a right prick lately._

_“You’ll be miserable there, mate. Let’s talk to Dad.”_

_“I can’t… Robb…”_

_“Nonsense. Just wait on the porch. I’ll go get him.”_

_“Robb, it’s three in the morning.” Maybe tossing his argument back at him would work._

_“And it’s you. Dad’s always there for us.”_

_“He’s there for you. You’re his son.”_

_Robb rounded on him. “Just because you’ve found some asshole new friends doesn’t make you any less one of Dad’s kids than you ever were. He thinks of you like a son. And he wouldn’t hesitate to help you. Even if you never see us again.”_

_Theon knew if he spoke right then, he’d start sobbing again, and he’d cried in front of Robb once too many times already. So he just nodded._

_Ned was there moments later. With messy hair and a flannel dressing gown. Robb explained what was going on and Ned nodded. “How much do you need?”_

_“With uh… interest, about fifteen...hundred.”_

_He didn’t even bat an eye, just reached into his wallet and handed it over._

From the second the money had touched his hands, Theon knew he had to wash them of this life. And he had.

But he owed everything to the man now praising him. Praising him like he was some kind of prodigal son, but really he was just a loser who got out of trouble before he succumbed to meth mouth.

He shook his head. “No, no, I… I keep my head down. That’s all.”

“You’re a respectable man, Theon. Everyone has nothing but nice things to say about you.”

 _Except for Catelyn_ , he thought bitterly. And to be honest, as much as her words had cut deeply, he couldn’t find fault with them. She spoke the truth.

“And that’s part of the reason I’m here. To apologize on behalf of my wife…”

Oh Drowned God, why

“No, no…” Theon began. “No, it’s al--”

“It’s not alright,” Ned replied. “I’m not here to make excuses for her, just to reassure you that no one else agrees with her.”

 _They should_.

He reached out to clap his hand on Theon’s shoulder, squeezing.

Theon wanted to vomit, but instead, he managed a weak smile. “Thank you. For saying that.”

Ned simply nodded and then left the master bedroom. “How many bedrooms upstairs?”

“Just one,” Theon replied. “The stairs open up into one big room. Just got finished replacing all the drywall up there, and I need to paint it now.”

Ned was already halfway up the stairs before he could warn him about the banister, which wobbled when he touched it.

“Yeah, I’m gonna fix that. It’s on the agenda for today,” Theon said with a laugh.

“I figured you were.”

“The handrail’s fine. Just fixed that before you go here.”

The tour of the upstairs was more perfunctory. More shop talk than anything else. Theon was trying and failing to let the fact slide that Ned had just spent a quarter of an hour praising him. _Despite_ what Ned knew about him.

Not to mention that he didn’t even know it _all_.

He didn’t know what Theon had done to get into Ramsay’s good graces to begin with. How he’d… fucking sold out the man that Robb insisted loved him like a son.

It was well before Ned had saved his ass, one of the last times he’d actually been inside Winterfell. Before he stopped hanging around with Robb full stop and Catelyn had practically banned him from the house for his connections.

Robb was still asleep and Theon was sneaking into Ned’s unlocked office to snoop around for something to give to Ramsay. He had wanted, more than anything to belong, so when Ramsay told him that all he’d need for a permanent spot in his group was something damning about Ned Stark, well…

His stomach had sort of sunk because he was fairly certain that man had no skeletons in any closets. Anywhere. Now, Cat had that crazy sister, but everyone knew about her, so that was no secret. And therefore, no leverage.

So he’d gone snooping in the file cabinets until he found the one with a folder containing Jon’s name.

Which was weird, because it was in the cabinet with all his business records. (Top-notch business records, by the way.)

Theon had pulled it out, skimmed the two documents inside and nearly fell on the floor.

Because inside was Jon’s full birth certificate. The long one. Without a father or mother listed. Of course. Everyone knew that Ned had adopted the boy. Taken custody of him, whatever. It was the other piece of paper that made Theon’s jaw drop.

He wasn’t versed in legal jargon, but from what he could glean, this listed Ned as Jon’s father.

And Catelyn couldn’t be his mother because he was born two months before Robb.

So that meant that Ned had a little bit of something on the side and Jon was the result. Perfect family man Ned Stark. With an illegitimate son.

He pulled out his phone and snapped pictures of both documents, sending them via text message to Ramsay before he quickly put all of it back in the folder and back into the filing cabinet.

He snuck out from Ned’s office and back to Robb’s room with no one the wiser.

No one except Ramsay, that is.

Fuck, he was awful.

He’d outed Ned’s biggest secret to a Bolton, complete with proof and everything. And then, later, he’d - taken money from Ned to get back on his feet because he was a despicable junkie. Or had been. And now he was lusting after Ned’s daughter when he was pretty sure she didn’t want him like that.

Possibly.

No, he was sure. And even if she did, she wouldn't want anything to do with him after she found out about this.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. This had really gone on too far.

Ned was talking about something with the drywall, and Theon felt like if he opened his mouth, he’d vomit out the truth, but maybe Ned needed to hear it.

But just as he was about to do it, his phone buzzed in his pocket and his hand jumped towards it out of habit.

“Sorry…” Theon pulled it out and checked the screen, his heart skipping a beat when he saw Sansa’s name and number there on the banner.

He smiled in spite of himself, and he heard Ned chuckle.

“I’ll leave you to it then.”

Theon looked up abruptly. “No, I mean, it’s--”

“It’s Sansa, isn’t it?”

His mouth pulled up into a sort of half-smile when he nodded. “Yeah, it’s Sansa.”

“I have to be going anyway… just wanted to come by and apologize for Catelyn. Once she realizes how happy Sansa is, she’ll come around.”

Theon swallowed down everything he wanted to say and instead just nodded. He knew damn well that Catelyn would never come around to liking him, but seeing Sansa’s name on his phone made him almost desperate to be alone. To read what she’d sent him in private because…

Because somehow along the way, this had become something real. Dammit. Maybe it had been real for him all along.Maybe he never really got over that crush he had on her when he was younger.

This wasn’t just friction and the fact that he was a horny bastard. No, this was more than that.

Because yeah, he wanted their kisses to turn more heated. He wanted those tiny moans he swallowed to be real. He wanted to make her gasp out his name until she couldn’t even form the words anymore and he had to shake himself because her father was still here.

“I dunno about that,” he said with a shrug.

“She will. Just… take care of Sansa, okay? I know she thinks she doesn’t need someone… and she’s been doing great on her own, but…” He trailed off. “She’s been floating around on autopilot for a while. She’s animated now. Like she used to be.”

Was she? Theon felt embarrassed that he didn’t notice. Sansa seemed the same she always was… wasn’t she?

“As I said, I’ll leave you to it, go ahead and answer her back.”

“You’re sure? I don’t want to run you off…”

“I’ll see myself out. You’re doing a great job, Theon. Truly.” The words felt like they had layers upon layers of meaning. But he couldn’t delve into that just now.

With that, Ned was gone. Walking down the stairs while Theon reached for his phone to read the text Sansa had just sent.

_Sansa - Hey do you want takeaway for dinner? Just so I don’t have to run to the grocery store after work?_

The text was so familiar, so achingly domestic that Theon had to close his eyes for a second. He really needed to start distancing. She’d want to end this sometime soon and he’d be left in the dirt.

_“I’m probably going to go late here. Don’t worry about anything for me, I’ll take care of it.”(sent)_

She read the text, started to type something, but then didn’t.

Theon put the phone back in his pocket and went downstairs to grab the power drill and start on the banister. No time like the present to get into a long, dedicated project that would keep him busy here for hours.

It took him a little while to get each screw out, but once he had, the banister was well-balanced enough to remain standing while he went to grab longer screws from the toolbox. Yeah, it probably made more sense to replace them while he went, but he wasn’t really thinking more than “be busy”, so here he was.

As his dumb luck would have it, there weren’t any longer screws in his toolbox, but he knew for a fact that he had some in the back of his truck.

So after making sure the banister wasn’t going to fall while he was gone, he opened the door and pulled out his keys to walk round to the back of the truck where he kept his supplies.

He went down the few porch steps and skidded to a halt in the gravel on the sidewalk.

His gaze was locked across the street, where a very familiar black sports car was parked just far enough away to be inconspicuous, but close enough to keep an eye on him.

Ramsay grinned, flashing his teeth at him and pushing off his car to cross the street. He was careful never to step on Theon’s property though. Which was probably good for him, because Theon could be considered a loose cannon.

“So,” Ramsay began. “Getting the pound of flesh talk from the future father-in-law?”

Theon wasn’t sure what to say, so he just shrugged. “If you like.”

“Not really, no… I can’t say I’m overly fond of you gorging yourself on my sloppy seconds, but…”

Theon had to stop himself from moving towards Ramsay. The nerve that prig had, trying to insinuate _he_ was with Sansa. He hadn’t been. He wished, probably.

Theon snorted derisively. “Sansa and you were never together. You just fucked up her flat and scared her a little.”

“Not together like you are? You bend that Stark girl over on the bare floor of that dump?” Ramsay countered.

Theon sniffed, allowing a smirk to tug at his lips. “I’m not going to kiss and tell, but I know she’s let me closer than she ever let you.”

Not a lie. And not overly crude either.

Ramsay’s face changed suddenly. His calm, collected, asshole exterior suddenly changed and he took a few steps forward, his toes scraping the curb just shy of Theon’s property. His voice changed. It got higher. A little less controlled. “Don’t forget what I know, Greyjoy.”

Theon knew exactly what Ramsay knew. Knew it could fuck him over royally. But it’d hurt Sansa more, so he had to keep a steady upper hand. He had Ramsay upset, which gave him the opportunity to travel the high road. “That a threat, Bolton? Think it’s gonna make me stay away from her?”

Ramsay pursed his lips like he was thinking before shaking his head back and forth. “I don’t think so, no. In fact, I _hope_ you don’t. The big reveal will be more delicious with a bigger audience. I don’t think she’d take kindly to finding out what I know about her dear old daddy, though. And she certainly wouldn’t like how I found out about it.”

“She’d recover. Something like that’s not going to ruin her.”

“No, no, it won’t. It’d ruin _you_ , though.” Ramsay was grinning in that scary evil way he had. Like a cat with a mouse dangling from one paw and another trapped under his monstrous back leg. “She won’t want anything to do with you. Or your bare floors. Or anything you do to her while you’re lying on them.”

Theon swallowed back his first response, which was a hissed insult to dare Ramsay to step one foot into his yard. Instead, he stared levelly into Ramsay’s crazy eyes and waited. Waited just past the time that he would have replied. Waited until he saw Ramsay look nervously to the side and then back at him.

“I’d thank you to keep off my property. I’ll call the cops if I find you here again.”

“You’ll call Jon?” Ramsay asked, snickering. “Maybe you could call Robb too. Get a whole family reunion cracking for when I tank Ned Stark and his political career. Make room for a Bolton as Region Representative for the North.”

“What are you even getting out of this?” Theon asked, anger tinting his voice now. “You hate your father, why would you ever help him?”

Ramsay shrugged. “You’re right. I do hate my father. Don’t hate his money, though. Don’t need it, but more is always better, innit? Plus, I get to see you broken, that bitch Sansa broken, Ned Stark broken, and Jon Snow broken. All in one glorious sweep.”

“You can’t break Sansa,” Theon spat. “You can try but you won’t.”

“Again, Theon. I’m not trying to break Sansa. I’ll let you do that for me.”

Theon set his jaw. No sense tipping his hand and revealing that he _couldn’t_ break Sansa Stark if he tried. If anyone was standing to be hurt by this, it was him. Him and Ned and Jon.

“Leave now,” he hissed, refusing to turn his back until Ramsay was in his car and pulling away.

It took him a couple of seconds to step back, turning his back to Theon like the fucker knew he wasn’t in any danger here. Theon wished he was crazy enough to wring his neck out here in the street. It’d keep him from hurting anyone else.

Ramsay got in his car and revved the engine loudly, throwing it in drive and pulling up the road. In the wrong direction, Theon’s street was a cul de sac. He likely knew what he was doing. He’d be turning around and driving back down in a few minutes. And then he’d probably rev the engine outside of the house. Like a prick.

Theon’s shit luck continued as if it were trying to out-do itself or something. The second Ramsay disappeared down the road, Sansa pulled into his driveway. So when Ramsay came back down the road, she’d see him. Dammit.

She parked beside Theon’s truck and climbed out of her car, ducking back in for two takeaway bags.

Theon could only watch her walk closer, knowing in a few seconds she’d see Ramsay and then she’d fall apart.

He wished he was taller. So he could block the street from view and maybe keep Ramsay from seeing Sansa there as well.

“Hey!” She greeted him, walking closer. “I brought dinner.”

“You didn’t have to…”

“You said you were going to stay late. I wanted Chinese and I didn’t want to eat it alone.”

He reached out and took one of the bags just as Ramsay’s loud ass car engine revved again. Sansa frowned and peeked around Theon’s shoulder, her eyes widening and then all the colour drained from her face.

“What— what’s he doing here?” she hissed, not taking her eyes off the car as Ramsay slowed down and honked his greeting. He waved brightly at Sansa before punching the gas and driving off.

“He came by for a visit,” Theon deadpanned. “What do you think? He was here being a wanker.”

“Fuck him,” she said suddenly. “Let’s go eat okay?” She looked sort of shaken, but when she met his gaze, he saw a steadiness there that made him want to do anything she said. If only to keep that look there.

“Yeah, I could eat,” he said, suddenly famished. It was probably the smells wafting up from the paperbag she was holding, and nothing to do with her.

She smiled and started walking towards the house. His eyes dragged up and down her form as she moved. She was wearing the same sweater she’d been wearing when he’d left the flat that morning. It was one of his favourites.

The fact that he had favourites in Sansa’s wardrobe should have alarmed him, but he couldn’t really blame himself. This particular sweater was icy blue and clung to her curves in a way that made it impossible to look away. The neckline dipped off one shoulder and even though she was wearing a t-shirt underneath today, sometimes she didn’t wear anything under it and her shoulder jutted out of the neckline, all creamy smoothness that he wanted to touch.

Her jeans hugged her hips and waist, tapering in like she’d had them tailored. She probably had. Sansa struck him as the kind of woman who took jeans to be tailored.

“Are you coming? Because you have the egg rolls.” She was standing in the open door, the light illuminating her from behind, and he’d been daydreaming about her fucking shoulder and thinking about her arse in those jeans and she was probably rightly freaked out now.

“Yeah, yeah… I’m coming,” he said, putting a little spring in his step to jog up to join her.

“Ramsay’s a jerk,” she said suddenly, and it dawned on him that she probably thought he was hung up on him. He should have been. What with everything that had gone on that day. He should have been agonizing over Ned finding out what he’d done and being disappointed. Sansa finding out and wanting nothing to do with him.

Fuck, Robb probably wouldn’t even forgive him for this.

But he couldn’t think, his brain was too foggy with her. Her long legs and her perfume that lingered in the air wherever she walked. It clung to every surface in the house, clung to him even until he got outside and started moving around.

“Oh, I know. He’s a wanker,” he replied, smirking a little as he brushed past her. “And that’s all.”

“He didn’t threaten you, did he?”

“Put him out of your mind, Sansa,” he said. “I’ve got egg rolls, remember?”

She grinned and gestured around. “Just anywhere?”

He folded his legs and sat down on the bare floor, reaching into the bag.

She waited for a long moment and then joined him, crossing her legs and sitting in front of him. The food was between them, but as they ate, they placed it to one side or the other, scooting closer and closer as they spoke.

She talked about her day at the nursery with Marg. Apparently, a large shipment from Highgarden had come in. Tons of tiny seedlings that needed immediate repotting. So that’s what she’d been doing all day between selling a few bouquets of cut flowers and a few potted plants.

“Your dad actually came by,” Theon said with a laugh, jabbing the chopsticks into the lo mein.

“My dad?” Sansa huffed out a laugh. “He was down here? He didn’t even call!”

“You jealous?” Theon asked, grinning over at her and she rolled her eyes.

“I mean, a little. He’s _my_ dad. What’d he say?”

Theon’s mouth tugged up slightly. “Talked about you.”

Her eyebrows rose. “What’d he _say_?”

“I mean, I’m not going to repeat all of it, but we talked about you, he apologized for your mum, and then gave me advice about the master bedroom.”

Sansa’s brow knit. “I’m sorry. What?”

“Renovations,” he clarified, laughing a little. “I don’t need any other bedroom tips.”

“I should hope not from my father, anyway.” She reached for the chicken, moving it around with the tip of her chopsticks before continuing. “What did he say about me?”

“Oh, he brought over an album of naked baby pictures and also told me every embarrassing thing you’ve ever done.”

She shot him a look. “Haha. Like there’s anything you don’t already know anyway.”

“Oh no, there were five new ones I didn’t know about,” he continued, in the same matter-of-fact tone.

Her leg came out to kick him. “He did not.”

“No, he didn’t. He pretty much gave me his blessing. And told me to take care of you.”

“I don’t need you to take care of me,” she said, still pushing the chicken around in the container.

“I know that. He knows that too. But still.”

“Still?”

“Sansa, he cares about you. He’s not going to give me free rein to take advantage of you, come on. He said normal dad things.”

“Okay, “she said, setting the chicken back down and leaning back on her hands. When she did that, her leg sort of came forward, toes of her shoe brushing against Theon’s shin.

“You finished with that?” he asked, nudging the chicken container towards her.

“Yeah, take it.”

He did, but then spied something else he wanted more. The last egg roll. He might have gotten it if Sansa hadn’t spotted it at the same exact time and reached for it. She grabbed it first, but that didn’t stop him from trying to take it from her.

“Nuh-uh, you have the chicken,” she giggled, holding the egg roll back behind her and out of his reach.

“Egg rolls are better and you bloody well know it,” Theon argued, reaching for it in vain because she was leaning back and in order to reach, he’d have to crawl on top of her. So instead, he bumped her elbow and she dropped it.

Diving for it, he emerged victoriously, but then she had to pout. She just had to push out her bottom lip and he found himself handing it over. “Here, he said, shaking it in her direction. “Take it.”

She grinned and grabbed it from him, stopping before taking a bite and breaking it in half. Cabbage spilled out, it wasn’t a clean break in the slightest. She held both halves out in her palms and he reached for one.

“You fucked it up,” he teased. “There’s cabbage everywhere.”

She giggled and he leaned forward before he could think about it, his lips brushing softly over hers and breaking off with a soft pop.

He gulped, his eyes wide as they both froze, a hairsbreadth between them.

Fuck. He hadn’t thought about it. He got caught up in the fantasy again. Shit shit shit.

They were both quiet, but she spoke first. “Didn’t stop you from taking the bigger half.”

Her gaze searched his and her meaning was clear. She was giving him an out. They could just move past this without talking about it again.

But he didn’t want that, dammit. He just wanted to see… maybe this wasn’t so one-sided.

He tossed the egg roll to the side and leaned forward, his hands cupping her cheeks as he pulled her closer, lips meeting hers much more aggressively this time.

She grunted into his mouth, her palms sliding his chest, he inhaled and rose up on his knees and she came too. His lips plucked at hers, he felt her teeth on his bottom lip, but he didn’t stop. Didn’t slow down, just groaned into her mouth.

He felt her smile as she tugged him closer until they were pressed flush together on their knees, her tongue sliding into his mouth and making him shake as blood rushed south.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, why was he doing this?

“Sansa…” he murmured, breaking off the kiss in a fit of heavy breathing. He nuzzled her nose with his. “Sans… I…”

“Theon.”

The way she said his name made him melt. She was lying back on the bare floor. Yanking at the neckline of his t-shirt so he’d go with her. His arms bracketed her body, one up by her head, the other down near her shoulder as he balanced on top of her. He was careful not to put too much weight on her, even as he felt her leg wind around his waist and pull him down. _Closer_.

Fuck…

Those legs featured in plenty of his early morning shower fantasies and he couldn’t help but let her pull him fully against her. The way she rocked up against him made him think she absolutely could feel how hard he was now. How stiff and… gods, _aching_.

“Sansa…” he murmured, his lips breaking away from hers to kiss along her jaw. One of her hands tangled in his hair and tugged. He was in heaven. Her scent was so much stronger here at her throat, and every time he brushed his lips against her skin, he felt her shiver. Felt her skin pebble. Felt how she attempted to pull him closer, even though he couldn't get much closer without taking something off.

He kissed up her jaw until he found her ear, sucking her earlobe into his mouth, he let his teeth graze her flesh and she yanked his hair, rubbing herself against him, a whispered ‘fuck’ puncturing the air.

It was that moment that her head hit the wall behind them, and he was surprised to see how far they’d actually moved across the floor.

But he didn’t have long to think about that, because the banister fell back onto the stairs with a loud thump that made her yelp and yank his hair again. Painfully, this time.

“Ow,” he mumbled, pushing up to look at what fell.

Apparently, when he’d bumped her head against the wall, it had shaken the banister enough to fall.

Such perfect timing, fuck.

“Oh shit, the screws,” he blurted. He’d forgotten to check his truck. Gotten caught up in Ramsay and then…

He searched her eyes, finding them dark and focused only on him.

“That thing’s just sitting there?” she asked, her voice low and throaty.

“I mean, not anymore.”

Her legs were still wrapped around his waist, and her lips were red and flushed from all his kissing, but he felt her start to shake with laughter all the same.

“So I suppose you’ll want help fixing that?”

She tilted her head in the direction of the stairs and he chuckled, sitting back. The mood was effectively ruined for now.

“No, I think you’ve done enough, love. You’re as bad as Robb.”

She laughed out loud at that. “So you’re telling me you make out with Robb on the floor as well? I’m telling Margaery.”

He sat back on his heels and laughed, holding out his hand to help her up. When she sat up, her hair was mussed, and she was sitting with her legs far apart, one on either side of him, knees bent so she could rest her arms on them. “Besides,” she continued, “That was totally your fault. Leaving that freestanding like it was.”

“I was going out to get more screws,” he replied. “But then you got here with your long legs and Chinese food to distract me and I forgot.”

Her cheeks flushed a little at that, and he automatically wished he hadn’t said anything.

“Pardon me, but my sackcloth was at the cleaner’s.”

Theon shook his head. “You know you’d look amazing in burlap, Sansa Stark.”

“Oh, I know I would.”

Theon pushed to his feet and offered his hand again to help her up. She pulled herself up and close to him in the process. He met her gaze and almost kissed her again, but instead, he stepped back to survey the damage, trying to ignore the raging erection that she had class enough not to talk about.

“There’s that Stark modesty.”

“You know it. Now are you fixing this tonight?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I’ll do it tomorrow, let’s go back to yours, Sansa.”

She looked at him for a long moment, as if waiting for him to say something else, but he just kept looking at the banister, so she finally spoke. “You want to come back to mine?”

“Am I still welcome?” he asked slowly.

“Of course you are, why wouldn’t you be?” she asked quickly. “I thought you’d want to fix that immediately is all.”

He shook his head. “It’ll still be laying there tomorrow.”

“I suppose it will,” she laughed and wrapped both her arms around her waist. “I’ll just head out now? I think I need a shower.”

“Okay,” he began, sort of confused by her wording, but she was quick to set everything straight.

“Just a short one. I’m really tired, so I won’t use all the hot water, so if you need one after… I’m probably going to go to bed afterward. I’m just… I maybe ate too much? I’m exhausted.” She was backing towards the door the entire time she was talking.

By the time she got there, she was fumbling in her pocket for her keys and practically running to her car.

Theon swallowed thickly.

What the fuck was that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're looking for more incredible Theonsa to read, you should also go and read the fic treaddelicately wrote me for my birthday! It's right here: [Why Don't We Go There](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23694763). Go read it and tell her how wonderful it is, because omgggggg, it's amazing. <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *screams*
> 
> This is SO EXTREMELY LONG. I promise it's worth it if you can make it to the end of the chapter. I PROMISE. So much is happening, I couldn't really break it up or cut it down. It's all necessary. *eyes gratuitous sex scene* Yep, all necessary. 
> 
> We earn our E rating in this one, folks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many thanks to my beta, treaddelicately. For listening to my nonsense as I powered through this monstrous chapter. I seriously screamed in her DMs so many times, she is the BEST omg.
> 
> Also, I got some LOVELY comments on the last chapter and I haven't gotten around to answering them all. They made me smile like crazy and made my entire week to the point where I wrote this chapter in about 3 days.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, you're all amazing!!!

**SANSA**

* * *

Sansa dragged her finger over the thin layer of condensation that was beading up on the countertop by the cash register. She traced patterns in it. Patterns that would bleed into each other until it wasn’t visible any longer.

Not that this kept her from thinking. Nothing could.

She had so many thoughts. Feelings. Questions.

All of which felt eternal because they only multiplied the longer she thought about them. All of them centered around the floor of Theon’s house. And that last egg roll.

But not really that. It was more than that.

It was the way he’d kissed her. She couldn’t shake it from her mind. It felt different this time. Real. Desperate. Like he _had_ to or he’d die or something.

She couldn’t recall having ever been kissed like that. But perhaps that was just Theon? He was a good kisser. That fact had already been established. Many times.

But in the past, he’d never kissed her like that. His kisses felt very controlled. His lips molded perfectly to hers, careful not to push too hard or pull her either. He was very rehearsed and perfect. Just the way she’d expected him to kiss every single time she’d thought about it. Which had been often.

That’s how she’d always known it wasn’t real. Not really. He was so careful to let her lead. Let her stop when she needed to. It was an act. For her. To help her.

This had been a different, a more chaotic perfect than she’d ever felt before. His teeth had been very present, his tongue too, in a delving, wet sort of way. Just thinking about it made her breath catch in her throat, pinpricks of arousal bloomed low in her belly, causing her to clench her thighs in an effort to push them away because she was at _work_ , for the sake of the Old Gods.

It stood to reason that what she’d actually witnessed was a real kiss. But there was no one around. No one looking. So who had that kiss been for? It wasn’t helping her. Certainly not. If anything, it only served to make her more confused. Because while before she’d definitely been kissing her brother’s best friend, this time she’d been kissing _Theon_.

And Theon was definitely into her. He couldn’t really fake that, right? With words maybe, but not with… _that_.

She’d almost expected to be scared of _that_ , but she’d surprised herself. Maybe it really was some kind of primal instinct that had never surfaced before now. It was almost as if everything else melted away and what she had to hang onto him for dear life. He was her life-breath and if she let go, she’d float away. There was no fear, no second-guessing, just what his lips were doing to her and what she wanted to do to him.

She lost herself in it. In the headiness of the kiss, in the clutching of his hands and the way he pressed hard between her legs.

And then when she was shaken cruelly back to reality, that’s when the fear caught up to her.

Sure, he had wanted her, but he wanted others too, hadn’t he? She wasn’t a jealous individual, especially of faceless women who’d likely been acting out of the same wantonness she’d felt. She couldn’t blame them.

Or him either.

Really, she didn’t know what to think. But she knew that she couldn’t _stop_ thinking that if she’d stayed there, it’d have ruined everything.

It wasn’t some bloke she fancied from class. It was Theon.

This had the potential to go horribly wrong. And after everything he’d given her, she couldn’t drag him there as well.

Not that selflessness had been the reason she’d practically lurched from his arms and out the door. No, she’d done that because she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t positive he actually wanted her. He _wanted_. That much was clear.

But maybe it was friction. Not just the physical kind either. It had been weeks since they’d been doing this. All of Winter Break. She was actually going back to start her final semester of class the following week.

And according to Robb, Theon had been living the life of a singleton for a while before that.

She didn’t want to think that of him. That all he needed was something she was hindering. But it was a very real possibility. More real than the unlikelihood of him developing real feelings for her.

Robb had teased him when they’d first announced their relationship. There was a real reason for that. Theon didn’t catch feelings that lasted longer than the relationship. He never had.

It wasn’t him.

And he likely wasn’t trying to hurt her. But she had to look out for herself.

The door chimed and it shook Sansa out of her thoughts, she donned her best customer service smile that fell just as soon as she saw Robb and Theon walk through the door.

What was he doing here?

Things had been strange at home for sure. He was still living there, sleeping on her couch and she’d done her very best to act like nothing was wrong. But he wasn’t stupid. She’d caught him watching her more than once. Obviously worried.

She wished she could just hug him and assure him that nothing bad was going to happen as a result of what they’d done. It was fine. A slip-up. It wouldn’t happen again. But every time she tried, the words wouldn’t come. She’d think about exactly what it was that they’d done and she’d get flustered and have to leave for fear of jumping him.

She replaced her customer service smile with a more genuine one. “Hey there.”

“Sans,” Robb said with a nod. “Marg around?”

“No, I chopped her up for fertilizer,” she replied, getting a smirk out of Theon and a glare from Robb. “She’s in the greenhouse, I’ll go get her.”

She walked to the swinging doors and thrust her head in. “Marg! Robb’s here.”

Her friend grinned and rose to wipe the dirt off her hands, walking to the sink to rinse them off before scurrying up to the front of the store. Sansa smiled warmly while she watched Marg and her brother embrace briefly before she was tugging him back to the office. Which left Sansa and Theon alone together.

The tension was thick enough to make her cough, so she moved to stand behind the counter again. Theon followed, leaning over the countertop and looking like he was going to touch her hand, but thought better of it.

“I told Robb we had a row. You and me. Had to come up with something. He wouldn’t stop asking me what was wrong.”

“A row? What about?”

He shrugged. “I don’t fucking know, I just didn’t know what else to say.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve been weird,” she said softly.

“If?” he asked, laughing dryly.

“ _That_ I’ve been weird. I’m sorry.”

“We need to talk…” He was dragging his fingers through the condensation on the counter as well, blurring the paths her fingers had taken. “I don’t wanna leave things where we did.”

“Oh… okay…” She didn’t have time to respond or dissect his statement any further because Robb and Marg came back into the room.

“Hey, I had a brilliant idea just now,” Robb exclaimed.

“Congratulations,” Sansa deadpanned. “Is that your first one?” She heard Theon snicker at that. She was very good at covering her discomfort with sarcasm.

“You think you’re funny, but he’s only laughing because you shag him.” Robb teased. “Marg says it’s been a shit day for you two, so how about we go out?”

Sansa’s eyebrows rose. “What are you asking?”

“We’ll go dancing or something.”

“Dancing,” Sansa replied. “Is Theon taking me or are you?”

Robb made a noise. “Theon. Weirdo.”

“Wow, that’s amazing. Didn’t know Theon could throw his voice like that…”

Theon chuckled. “Sans, it’s up to you. If you feel like going out tonight, we will.”

“It’s up to me?” she asked, surprised that he was going along with it.

“Yeah. Up to you.” His eyes were glued on hers and she felt exposed. Not in a bad way, but almost like she was unprepared for what he was asking.

“I’d like to,” she replied, her voice suddenly hoarse, so she cleared her throat. “I’d like to.”

“Okay. That’s great. I’ll meet you guys there, or...” Robb trailed off, looking at Margaery for confirmation.

“Sans, you want to come to mine to get ready?” Margaery interrupted, her attention on Sansa as well.

Sansa’s eyes widened. “Sure, that sounds fine.”

Marg turned to look at Robb and smiled. “You two can pick us up there. That okay, Theon?”

“If you like,” he said, smiling for the first time since he got there. “I’ll meet you at Marg’s, Sans.”

“Good. We’ll be heading out in a few. Meet us at mine at seven, okay?”

“Sounds good, see you later, Marg,” Robb leaned over to peck her lips, and Margaery tweaked his nose in reply.

“Later,” was all she said in reply.

Theon leaned across the counter and caught Sansa’s lips. It was by outward appearances, a chaste kiss. But it seemed to stoke the fire inside her regardless. She reached up to grab the neck of his t-shirt and hold him there. He smiled against her but didn’t deepen the kiss. Instead, he broke it off, pressing smaller pecks to her lips. “I have to go, love.”

“Right…” she let go of his shirt and could feel Marg and Robb’s eyes on her when she blinked, pressing her lips together and tasting _him_. He tasted like the spearmint gum he chewed to cover up the cigarettes.

“You guys made up then? Fucking finally. Theon’s a right prick when you’re mad at him, Sans.” Robb sighed in relief. “Come on then, Hot Lips, let’s go.” He swatted Theon’s shoulder and Theon snuck one more glance in her direction, one of those crooked smiles that made her weaker than it should. And then he turned to leave. “See you tonight, Sansa. Marg.”

“Bye,” Sansa called, laughing nervously and feeling her face growing red.

“Bye, Theon,” Margaery called, crossing slowly over to the counter to straighten the succulents that didn’t need straightening. “I want to hear all about your ‘row’ with Theon,” she muttered, waiting until they had gone before raising her voice to a normal volume.

Sansa rolled her eyes. “We didn’t have a row.”

“Robb thinks you did. Said Theon looked right put out this morning,” Margaery replied. Her matter-of-fact tone was frustrating for some reason Sansa couldn’t quite name.

Her brow furrowed. “I mean…”

“Save it. It sounds like a long story. You can tell me at mine. Close out this register, I’ll go lock up.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and did as Marg directed. They closed up shop and left in separate cars so Sansa could drop off hers at home and ride with Marg thereafter.

“Do you mind waiting while I go up and grab something to wear?” Sansa asked, opening Margaery’s passenger door to drop in her bag.

“Just borrow something from me. We’re the same size.”

“I’m taller.”

Marg shot her a look. “Barely.”

Stifling a grin, she changed tactics. “Okay, what about shoes?”

“Size nine?” Marg asked.

Sansa nodded. “Yeah. Size nine.”

“Same as me. Come on, wear my clothes. It’ll be fun.”

“Like playing dress-up?” Sansa asked, sliding into the passenger seat of Marg’s car.

“No, gods, Sans. It’s not like you’re a prude or something. Look, if you don’t find anything, we’ll come back here, okay?”

“I’m not saying no,” she replied. “You’ve probably got something more appropriate for dancing anyway.”

Margaery smirked and turned up the radio. She lived a short way away from Sansa, so her backup plan of coming back was actually plausible if needed.

Her friend lived in a flat that was actually the top floor of a house. And when it was warm, she had the lushest patio garden of anyone in the North. But that was nothing compared to the plants she had inside.

To say Marg was a green thumb was an understatement. She lived in a bloody jungle and Sansa was so jealous.

“Gods, it’s always so beautiful in here, Marg…”

“Reminds me of Highgarden,” she replied wistfully. “Not that I don’t love it up here in the frozen North or anything…” she teased.

“Well, Robb’s not in Highgarden.”

Marg arched an eyebrow. “He certainly isn’t.”

“So I take it that’s going well?” Sansa asked.

“What gave me away?”

“Oh, I dunno. The moony-eyes you give him whenever he’s in the shop. Oh, and the fact that he comes up to the shop to visit almost every damn day. And the way you talk about him. Things I’d rather not know about my brother.”

“Would you rather we talk about Theon?” Marg grinned over at her.

“I wouldn’t know about Theon.” Sansa reached out to brush her fingertips over a philodendron.

“Sansa. Spill,” Margaery commanded. “ _Now_ , preferably, I’m about to jump out of my skin over here.”

“Spill what?” Sansa asked, meandering around the room.

“You know what.”

She managed to demure a bit longer, looking at plants and asking where the dresses were. Margaery’s need to dress Sansa up won out over her desire to know what was going on with Theon.

So she soon found herself gazing at a closet full of beautiful clothing. It was then that she finally decided to spill. She spilled all over the floor and up the walls and some probably splattered the ceiling.

“We kissed.”

“And?”

“No, I mean… it was a _real_ kiss. No one was around to play-act for… it was just us. And it was… _fucking unbelievable_.”

She could practically hear Margaery grin. “Oh really? How so?”

“I don’t know how to describe it. But it felt like a proper kiss, you know? I mean, I thought he was kissing me properly before, but this was… this felt… gods…” She practically melted onto a bench, covering her face.

“Just a kiss or--”

“It was snogging. We were full-on snogging on his floor.”

Even talking about it made her belly swoop. Made her nerves tingle. Fucking hell, she had _loved it_.

“So what’s the problem?” Marg asked. “How’d you get from snogging to Theon sulking around looking like a slapped arse?”

The smile slowly fell from Sansa’s face as she began to stare at the high heels lined up neatly on a shelf under the clothes. She wrapped her arms around her knees. “I have no fucking idea where I stand with him.”

Marg snorted. “You don’t?”

“No.”

“You’re serious? He snogged you on the floor, that should tell you everything.”

“And yet, it doesn’t.” Before Marg could continue down a road where Sansa didn’t want to go, down a road filled with false hope, she stood up and started poking through the dresses. “What colour do you think?”

“Are you like this with him? Because if you are, I can tell you right now that boy is suffering from whiplash.”

“I’m told green looks good on me… with my hair.” She deftly ignored Marg’s questions until she finally stepped forward with an impatient sigh.

“Here, let’s see shall we?”

They looked through all of Marg’s dresses until they’d chosen four of them for Sansa to try on and model.

The first one she tried on was burgundy, which looked lovely against her skin, but the dip in the front came down very far. Well far. Too far, leaving her feeling very exposed and also worried about wardrobe malfunctions.

She was constantly plucking at it so Marg vetoed it too. “You need to be comfortable. Comfort is sexy.”

The next one was black and strapless, and wouldn’t stay up over her chest. Apparently, Marg had more in the bosom department. No surprise to Sansa really.

The last two appeared more promising. Both were dark blue. The first of the two fit very nicely. It had one sleeve and an opening that curved around the left side of her rib cage. It was actually kind of conservatively cut. As conservative as Marg went anyway. It was very stretchy and hugged her hips, leaving little to the imagination.

“That goes in the maybe pile,” Marg replied. “Now check the other one.”

As Sansa pulled it down over her head, the heavy beaded material hung just perfectly against her body. It hit around mid-thigh, so it was on the short side, but not scandalously so. The front dipped down, the point of the ‘v’ hitting just at the bottom of her sternum. It fit her like a glove, accentuating what little cleavage she had and the narrowness of her waist.

Marg’s eyes bugged out when she saw her. “Bloody hell, Sansa… that looks better on you than it does on me!”

When Sansa looked in the mirror, she was amazed at what she saw. Not that she had any hangups with her body, but she tended not to show this much skin at once.

“I shouldn’t… I should wear the other one, shouldn’t I?”

“ _Why_?” Marg asked. “You look a vision in that.”

“I mean, it’s a bit much, isn’t it?” Sansa asked.

“It’s up to you,” Margaery said. “Wear whichever one makes you happy.”

Sansa turned around in the dress, admiring the way it stretched over her bum and hips. She’d have to wear nylons with it, but she wasn’t about to complain about that. “This one,” she said, grinning widely. “I look fucking amazing.”

“Yeah, you do!” Margaery beamed like it was an utter triumph. “I’ve got just the shoes you can wear too.” She went into the closet and rummaged around, returning with a pair of navy blue pumps that made Sansa’s legs look a million miles long. Rounded her arse out too.

“Fuck me…” Sansa gaped at her reflection.

“Not now, I think it’d be weird since I’m currently fucking your brother.”

She shot Marg a look and turned around once more. “I need nylons.”

“I’ve got a ton of never-been-worns in the basket behind the door.” Marge gestured to the door and Sansa walked around behind it to look through them. It didn’t take long to find a sheer pair.

She emerged from the closet only to have Marge reach in around her and grab a dress at random. Sansa shot her a look of alarm and her friend grinned easily. “They’re my clothes, love. I _know_ I look amazing in them.”

The dress she chose was gold and pink, short enough to have Sansa staring, but somehow it worked for Marg. After that, she set Sansa’s hair in large hot rollers before sliding to the floor so Sansa could weave some intricate braids into Margaery’s long wavy tresses.

It was almost like a sleepover, except they were grown women and definitely not getting ready for bed or a night of prank-calling their crushes.

Marg swore like a sailor when Sansa pulled, so that was definitely on-brand for her past sleepovers. Arya had cut her hair short just so Sansa wouldn’t ever touch it again. That and it had angered their mother. But mostly because she yanked it like she was trying to drive a team of horses with it. “I’ll go wherever you want,” Arya would screech, “Just don’t pull my hair anymore!”

But afterward, Margaery looked beautiful and despite wincing whenever she pressed her hand to the top of her head, she still smiled. “That looks gorgeous. Like vines or something…”

“Yup. Just dye it green and you’ll finally be one of your plants,” Sansa joked.

“Don’t tempt me,” Margaery replied.

Sansa grabbed her purse and brought it over to Marg’s vanity. She always brought her foundation with her for touch-ups so she settled into the cushioned seat to do just that.

And that was the moment Marg started in on her again.

“Robb’s pretty sure you and Theon are on the rocks.”

Sansa took a deep breath and rubbed some foundation over the apples of her cheeks, reaching for her finishing powder. “He’s not wrong.”

“He said you had a row,” she repeated.

“Theon told me. We didn’t. He said he couldn’t think of anything else and Robb wouldn’t leave him alone.”

“Well, Robb said he was really down. Not talking at all and changing the subject whenever you were brought up. Sounds like a row to me.”

“It’s because we kissed.”

Marg didn’t look like she believed her. “Or was it because you acted like a fool after he kissed you?”

“I didn’t act like anything.”

She sniffed. “Oh, that’s not vague at all.”

“We kissed and like… we bumped into the wall and it made something fall over, and it ruined the mood. That’s all.”

“Well, are you sure it wasn’t you? Because I know if I was finally kissing my high school crush and they ended things abruptly, I’d be a bit down on myself too.”

Sansa dropped the brush in her hand, it fell with a clatter to the glass top of Marg’s vanity. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, you didn’t know? Yeah, Robb says Theon’s been gone on you forever. Since you lot were in high school together.”

“He wasn’t gone on me! He was a complete ass to me in high school! Making fun of me and calling me ‘chicken legs’ and spitting on his hand and touching me with it!”

“Yeah, isn’t that how little boys act around the girls they like? Pulling their pigtails and whatnot?”

“Well, we’re not kids anymore,” she said in a dismissive tone, hoping to put the matter to rest because holy shit, she had to process this. “If he has feelings he should tell me.”

“Snogging you breathless on the floor didn’t tell you enough?”

“I never said he snogged me breathless.”

“No, but you flush down to your tits every time I mention it.” She smirked and Sansa glanced down.

“See, this is why I don’t wear things like this. I’m much too fair-skinned. Every single little thing shows up.” She pressed her palm against her chest like she was trying to will the extra colour away.

“So are you admitting--”

“Yes, it was the best kiss I’ve ever had in my bloody life,” she exclaimed. “Is that what you wanted to hear? And it doesn’t matter if he had a crush on me in school, I have no idea what his feelings are now. We are both grown adults.”

“You’re telling me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sansa asked, reaching for her bag again to touch up her lipstick. She unrolled the tube of icy mauve and stared at it.

Sansa wasn’t looking directly at her, but she could see the reflection in the mirror. Marg gave her this look. An all-knowing look that infuriated Sansa more than if she’d just _said_ something.

“Stop it.”

Marg looked pointedly at the dress Sansa was wearing and then back up at her.

“ _You_ suggested this one,” Sansa argued.

“I suggested many, you picked this one. Because you look stupid hot in it. You’re not wearing that for me or Robb. And it’s outside your comfort zone. So who are you planning on impressing?”

“Should I put on the other one?” She started to get up and Marg pulled her back down.

“Talk to me, Sans. You’re getting all squeaky.”

“Look, I don’t want… I do want… I just…” Fucking hell, she _was_ squeaky. “Gods, Marg. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”

Margaery put down the eyeshadow brush in her hand. “Don’t you?”

“No? I’ve never...gods, I don’t even know if _he_ wants.”

“Oh, he wants.”

“And how do _you_ know that?”

“Honey, I have eyes.”

“So do I.”

“Then you’ve got blinders on,” Marg said flippantly. “You need to talk to _him_ is what you need. Go squeak at him so he can make it better.”

“I… I don’t know how to bring it up.”

Marg swept a smoky dark colour over her lids and reached into her cosmetic bag, pulling out two lipsticks. She peered at them while she raised her voice a pitch to imitate Sansa. “Theon, we snogged. It was really good. I need to talk about it before my head explodes.” She switched back to her own voice. “Then you sit down and talk.” She handed one of the lipsticks to Sansa. “Wear that.”

She took the tube from her. “I can’t say that.”

“Why not?”

She uncapped it and rolled it without really looking at the colour. She pouted her lips and swept the lipstick over them. It was dark red. Almost blood red. It was loads darker than she usually wore, but fuck if it didn’t look amazing. “I just… I dunno.”

She knew why she couldn’t. Because she couldn’t handle being rejected. Or finding out that what she feared was the truth. That Theon didn’t have feelings for her other than that she was a woman and she was nearby and he wanted.

A part of her knew that wasn’t the case. That Theon did care about her and he’d never… he wouldn’t… but why wouldn’t he? Every other man she’d ever met got stupid when the possibility of seeing or touching her boobs was on the table. So why would Theon be any different?

“Well that’s on you, I can’t talk to him for you,” Marg said, pulling two tissues from a nearby box and handing one to Sansa so she could blot. “You should definitely do something with your eyes. Nothing drastic, just… eyeliner or something.”

Margaery was right. She was running in circles when she should be talking to Theon. And he wanted to talk. He’d said as much when she’d seen him earlier. He didn’t like the way they left things. Well, that made two of them.

“You think? I have an eyeliner pencil in my purse somewhere…” she reached for it and Marg batted her hand away.

“I’ve got a liquid one you can use.”

“I’m no good with liquid.”

“Well I am, so turn around here and be still.”

It took her all of two minutes to give Sansa winged eyeliner in a way that made her jealous that she’d never practiced with anything more than the black pencil she got from the drug store. She chose a tan and blue combination for her eyelids, and it was faint, but still visible if you really looked.

By the time Marg let her hair down from the hot rollers, she barely recognized herself.

Her hair fell in large waves around her shoulders, and she looked like a towering giant in the heels combined with the skirt. Her legs looked long and smooth thanks to the heels and nylons, respectively.

“Fuck me, you’re gorgeous,” Margaery grinned while they stared into the full-length mirror on her wall.

“Thought you were fucking my brother,” Sansa replied, smirking a little and feeling a bit more like herself in the process.

“Only if he looks this good in heels.”

“You never know. I’m sure he’d be up for anything.” Sansa turned to try and get a view of her back, catching a glimpse of the way the dress dipped down her back, making a bra next to impossible.

Marg had insisted she didn’t need one. But it did contribute to the naked feeling she had.

“I’m going to freeze in this tonight,” Sansa mused.

“I’ve got coats in here somewhere,” her friend replied, turning so Sansa could zip the back of her dress before ducking back into her closet to look.

“Here,” she tossed a pile of colourful coats onto the bed. “Take your pick.”

Sansa chose a grey one from the stack and then grabbed her purse from the vanity.

“You’re taking that thing into a nightclub? Marg asked. “I have some tiny purses if you’d rather.”

“I’ll just make Theon hold my shit,” Sansa replied with a smirk.

“Oooh, good plan. I might do that too.”

“Make Theon hold your shit?”

She laughed. “Yeah. Robb’s liable to lose it.”

Marg’s phone buzzed. She smiled. “Robb’s here. I assume Theon’s right behind him?”

Sansa’s phone buzzed a second later. She glanced down at it.

_“I’m here. I’ll be up in a sec.”_

“Yeah, he’s here too.”

She took her purse and coat and walked out to the living room, staring at the plants until there was a knock at the door.

Sansa went to open it and Robb was standing on the other side, bouncing on his toes. “Where’s Marg?” he asked.

“Her room.”

Robb practically sprinted past her and when she heard the door close, she knew she should probably vacate the premises unless she wanted to hear strange noises coming from Marg’s room.

“I am outta here,” she muttered. Exiting the flat and making her way down the stairs. She walked down the driveway until she got to the road where Theon was parked. He wasn’t in his truck, rather he was crouched down beside the driver side mirror, fooling around with his hair.

Checking out his reflection. Like the vain little shit that he was.

She stifled a giggle and waited until she got a bit closer. “Hey,” she called.

“Hey,” he replied absently, still looking at himself. He did glance up in her direction once.

And then twice for a double-take.

And then he abruptly disappeared, his hand smacking the side of the truck when he went down, only to pop back up again and round the truck with a slight limp.

“How are you planning on dancing if you can’t even walk?” Sansa quipped.

He smiled, shaking his head. “Sorry, you startled me.”

“I look that horrendous, eh?” she teased.

“Not exactly…” he reached for the car door. “You wanna get in?”

“I’ll put my stuff in there,” she replied, dropping her coat and purse in the passenger seat and waiting for him to push the door closed again. “Not sure how long those two will be,” she gestured up to Marg’s flat. He leaned back against the door. The very picture of nonchalance.

Or the very picture of his _attempt_ at nonchalance because the way his eyes were dancing between her face and the rest of her, looked almost comical.

She decided to bait him. Maybe she just really liked compliments.

Turning around slowly, she held out her hands. “So… what do you think?”

“I fell on my arse when I saw you.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Bad for my ankle, but overall, it’s very… very good.”

She grinned, taking her bottom lip between her teeth to keep it from stretching too widely across her face, she looked down.

“What about me? How’d I do?” Theon reached up to ruffle his hair one last time.

She nodded, pursing her lips. “Not bad.”

“Not bad,” he breathed. “Not bad, she says.”

She reached out to straighten the collar on his shirt. “You clean up nice.” He was wearing a dark green oxford and a pair of black trousers that were cut and tapered in a way that made her wonder if she had a thing for all men’s thighs or just Theon’s.

He caught her hands and she held her breath as he stepped closer. “Where’s Robb and Marg?”

“Making out in her room.”

“Children,” he scoffed but stepped even closer. He smelled like cologne. Something woodsy and salty at the same time. She inhaled as deeply as she was able, trying to commit the scent to memory. His hand felt firm in hers while he laced their fingers on one hand and reached up with the other to brush the hair from her face.

“Juvenile,” she agreed, her voice no louder than a whisper and wishing like crazy he’d kiss her like he had before on the floor of his house. She knew how to handle it now.

He was standing so close she could smell his breath again. More spearmint.

She bit down on her bottom lip and he smiled, the hand in her hair dropping to curl around her waist. “This looks nice.” He glanced down between them indicating the dress.

“Nice? I’ll be sure to tell Marg that you think her dress is nice.”

“It looks nice on _you_.”

“I spent the better part of two hours getting ready,” she teased. “To look nice?”

“Fucking stunning, then,” he said, tugging her hand up to his mouth to kiss the back of it.

If she didn’t have the heels, she’d melt to the ground. His eyes were dark as fuck and looking at _her_. Like she was the only person in the entire world. The only thing worth looking at.

She felt herself leaning forward like he was magnetic. She pressed one hand against his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath her fingers. It felt like time slowed down and she bit her bottom lip again to stifle another grin.

“Bite your lip one more time and see where it gets you,” Theon breathed.

The hot burn of arousal pulsed and pulled her even closer into his body heat. She bunched her fingers in the fabric of his shirt and bumped her nose with his when he kissed her. He still had her hand clasped in his, but the other was around her waist, snagging in the beads sewn into her dress while he held her close.

But then Robb laughed loudly when he exited Marg’s flat. It was no fault of his, he had no idea what they were doing.

“Fuck,” Theon murmured, pressing his forehead to hers briefly before letting her go.

Sansa stumbled slightly, her hand shooting out to press against the truck to steady herself and she was pretty sure no one noticed except maybe Marg, who waggled her eyebrows as she walked down to Robb’s car, which was parked in front of Theon’s.

“You need a cigarette, Sans?” she teased.

“She doesn’t smoke,” Robb answered for her, twirling his keys while he walked around to the driver’s side of his car.

Theon reached for the door and tugged it open. “I have some if you’re interested.” He grinned like the smug prick he was and Sansa rolled her eyes in the most unconvincing way possible as she scooted her bag over and let him help her into the seat.

He closed the door and sauntered around the front of the truck, opening the door and climbing inside.

“Don’t look so cocky,” she said.

“Why not? I have a good reason.”

“You fell on your arse when you saw me. I stumbled when you kissed me. I think I’m still winning.”

“We’ll see.” He grinned and turned the key in the ignition.

They followed Robb to the club, with Theon humming along to something on the radio. Sansa wriggled her toes in her shoes, smoothing her skirt over her lap while her knee bounced.

She kept sneaking glances at him and caught him looking at her too.

It was like it had been before she’d made things awkward. Maybe this could work? She had no reason to think he’d hurt her, right? She should still talk to him like Marg said. But now wasn’t the time. Now was the time for fun and she wasn’t about to ruin that to talk about feelings.

Speaking of feelings, she felt really beautiful, even more so when he looked at her like he was. She smiled at the thought, taking her bottom lip between her teeth in the process. It was almost a compulsion now.

“What did I say about that?” His voice was low. Too low. It made her thighs clench.

Arching an eyebrow she turned towards him. “Don’t really care, I’ll do what I want, Greyjoy.”

The look he gave her was so heated if they weren’t driving she’d have stripped off her knickers right then.

As it was, she simply stared right back until he inevitably looked back to the road. His hand crept across the divide between them and she reached out as well, tangling her fingers with his. His thumb stroked hers until they arrived in the parking lot of the night club.

He parked near Robb and locked the truck with her purse in the floorboards. She took everything important out of it and handed it to him. He grudgingly put her driver’s license and credit card in his wallet. “I’m paying,” he stated like it was some kind of challenge.

“If you like,” she replied, holding out her hand and clasping his while they walked towards the front door.

They were waved inside by someone who knew Marg and catcalled the second the door opened by the guys waiting in the front of the line.

“Shut it,” the bouncer boomed, winking in Marg’s direction before ushering them inside.

Sansa simply squared her shoulders and ignored it. Theon didn’t, though. He pulled her flush against his side, whispering in her ear within seconds.

“You okay?”

“It happens,” she said simply.

“It sucks,” he replied.

“Yep.”

Theon paid the cover charge, all the while keeping one arm around her waist. They checked their coats and followed Marg and Robb into the main part of the building.

The club itself was dark except for the lights swirling on the dance floor and the ones illuminating the band. There were already couples out there and Marg was tugging Robb out with her.

“Do you even dance?” Sansa asked, turning back to Theon.

“Course I dance.”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Really.”

“Really. Do you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Okay, so are we?”

“Yeah…” Sansa grinned as Theon guided her to an empty spot near Marg and Robb.

The type of dancing that went on here was decidedly more schooled than other clubs, but Sansa had taken social dancing for two years at University. Theon was surprisingly astute with the steps as well. Maybe a bit rusty, but he warmed up.

He kept his eyes on her and spun her around, holding her close, his hand splaying her lower back.

“Whoa. You can actually… do this.”

He smirked. “I took dance lessons for all of last year to pick up the women in the class. Don’t you breathe a word of that to anyone.”

“Animal,” she accused, still smiling when he released her and pulled her back into an even closer hold.

He arched his eyebrows for a moment before his hand moved down to squeeze her bum.

“Theon!” she exclaimed, not missing a beat and stepping back from him again.

“That’s a step, Youtube it.”

“That’s move, is what that is.”

“Depends,” he replied, grinning again. “Is it working?”

She wasn’t about to give him the benefit of knowing how it affected her, so she simply dropped the subject and used the next opportunity she had to return the favour. “It appears to be working.”

The song ended so he pulled her into a low dip and then back up again so they could clap for the band.

The next song that came on was quite a bit slower. A samba, if Sansa was hearing it right. She immediately felt nervous, glancing up at him through her lashes. “If you want to sit this one out, we can.”

“Are you kidding? This one’s my favourite. You press your arse against me for most of the dance.”

She laughed nervously.

“But I think I might be thirsty,” he said slowly, eyeing her for a moment. “Fancy a drink?”

She breathed a sigh of relief and nodded.

He slid one hand around her waist while they walked toward the bar. “Just tell me what you want, Sansa, it’s that simple.”

“A drink,” she replied, smiling up at him as he went to order. “Just water with a lime.”

She hung back and waited, and he brought her the water, clutching a beer for himself as they made their way to a table. She sipped at it for a moment. “Is it really that simple, though?” she heard herself asking. “I just have to ask you and you’ll do it?”

“I mean, within reason.”

“I never liked samba when we had to do it in class. Too intimate.”

“You don’t like that?” he asked, sipping at the beer.

“Not with people I don’t know.”

“You know me.”

“I know, but if anything it feels even more intimate.”

He smiled. “I’m not going to try to talk you into anything you don’t want, love.”

“Are we still talking about dancing?” she murmured.

“That’s up to you,” he replied.

She spent the rest of the slow song sipping her water. The next song that came up was more upbeat, so she tossed her drink and held out her hand to him. He followed her and joined her back on the floor. There was no sight of Marg or Robb anywhere and honestly, Sansa preferred that. There was less pressure when they were alone.

The next three songs were fast, and by the time they were over, she had a thin sheen of sweat covering her skin, and he was panting slightly. Her feet felt achy in her shoes, but she was smiling wider than ever.

As the band struck up one last song before their break, she recognized the chords at the beginning. Slow at first, then two fast beats.

“Tango,” she said softly.

“You don’t know tango?” he asked.

“I do,” she replied.

“You want another drink?” he asked again, giving her an out.

“No,” she replied.

He held out both hands and she stepped into position.

The beat thrummed steadily and she let him lead her across the floor. His eyes were boring holes into her, and she looked away because that was what the dance dictated. He would stare and she would look away.

“Dragging you,” he muttered, bending his arms so she could grip his forearms to keep her upper body steady as he dragged her towards him, spinning round immediately. His hand clutched at her waist and the other came up to her jaw to turn her face towards him. “Look at me.”

She went where he led, and the entire time she lost herself in the darkness of his gaze. She could feel the tightness in his chest. His arms. The way his breath hit her when they hit certain beats.

Too soon, the song was over, they were clapping again.

Or she was.

He wasn’t. He was pushing his hair back and looking very much like he needed to catch his breath.

“Theon?” she asked, leaning near him. “Are you--”

“I can’t do this,” he replied, shaking his head and backing away from her. “I can’t.”

“Okay…” she frowned and followed him. “Where are you--”

“I have to leave. If you want a ride, I’m going.” He started to leave and flustered, she followed him out of the main room, through the place where they’d checked their coats, and out to the parking lot. He exhaled when he hit the cool night air like he hadn’t been able to breathe in there.

“Theon are you--?”

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, turning to face her. “I shouldn’t have made you leave.”

“No, I want to, if something’s wrong with you?” she asked, genuinely concerned for his well being, he looked pale. “What’s wrong?”

“I just can’t do this anymore,” he replied, stopping in front of his truck and pressing both hands to the side of it, leaning forward to stare at the ground.

“Can’t do what?” she asked, feeling very worried and very confused. She’d been having fun, what had changed?

“Let me take you home,” he said instead of answering her. He opened her door for her and she climbed inside.

The car ride back to her flat was quiet. She texted Margaery to let her know Theon hadn’t been feeling well, so they left.

Marg texted her back, but she didn’t even look at it. Instead, she chewed the inside of her cheek and gazed out at the lights going past them. It took her back to that evening weeks ago, where she’d fucked up so badly and he’d come to her rescue. She couldn’t help but feel like she’d done it again. Somehow.

She glanced over at him, noticing that he was staring hard at the road ahead. Never faltering. Nothing like the drive up to the club.

He parked in her parking lot and she pulled her bag out from under the seat. She heard him lock his truck and follow her up to her flat. He stood quietly while she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

He followed her in.

He closed the door and stood there in her entryway while she placed her purse on the table and slipped out of the heels with a sigh.

“I think… I’m going to go stay at my place tonight,” he said slowly.

She blinked. Confused as hell. “What? Okay?” she didn’t want to tell him not to go, because what reason did he have for being here, anyway?

“That’s it? Okay?” he asked.

“What else do you want me to say?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he replied, shaking his head. “Just say nothing. It’s more in character.”

“Now wait for just a second,” she countered. “You say just as much nothing as I do.”

“You want me to say something?” he asked, his eyes wild when he moved towards her. Not in a threatening manner, he merely looked frustrated as hell.

“ _Please_ say something,” she replied, not wanting to sound as facetious as she did, but the tone was there nonetheless.

“Okay, how about, are you ashamed of being seen with me?”

She frowned, shaking her head. “No? Theon, why would you think that?”

“What about around your parents?”

“No, I don’t think I know what-- where’s this coming from?”

“Really?” He laughed without humour. “Because that’s how it bloody well looks to me.”

“You’re a nutter if you think that,” she countered, folding her arms. “I’m not ashamed of you. I’m proud of you. I stood up for you to my mother!”

“I know you did, and see, that was sweet. It really was. But then when you heard that your dad approved of me, why’d you flip out?”

“I’m sorry, what?” she asked. “When did I flip out?”

“Four days ago at mine,” he said. “We were getting along and then I told you that and suddenly you couldn’t wait to be away from me. Leaving me there on the floor of my place wondering what the fuck I’d done to upset you.”

She opened her mouth, and he continued. “And if you’re not pushing me away, you’re bloody well climbing into my lap and kissing me and wearing… _that_ and I can’t… I can’t do it anymore, Sans.”

She frowned, but kept quiet, the more he talked, the more relaxed he looked, true he was pulling at his hair and gesturing like a mad man and stalking back and forth in her entryway, but he was talking. She was seeing what was in his mind. And holy shit, it wasn’t what she thought.

“I can't do this anymore, I can't... be _there_ for you like this, it's messing with my head. It's like, one minute, you're mine and we're together and it's great, but then the next, you leave me cold and I can't switch it on and off like that. And neither can you, but I'm sick of making excuses for you to fucking do whatever you want..." He trailed off. “You can’t have your cake and eat it too.”

Sansa blinked, taking a step back from him. “Is this happening?” She brought her hand up to her head and collapsed in the chair, staring off at the wall. “Are you actually saying this right now?”

“As far as I’m aware, yes,” he snapped.

“How dare you accuse me of leading you on?” she asked. “How dare you when you… you…” she started shaking at some point. “You’ve got no right…”

He stared at her. “I’ve got no right? No right to what? No right to feel this for you? No right telling you about it? No right--”

“Don’t you dare put words in my mouth, Theon Greyjoy.”

“You put some in there, then. You’re making no sense.”

“I have no fucking idea what I’m doing!” she said. The words echoed around the flat and he looked surprised. “I don’t. I am woefully inept and ill-equipped to handle a man like you, apparently. Because I thought you were taking me along, pulling me out to sea with you, and apparently, it was I who was doing the pulling?”

“Sansa you must have--”

“I must have _nothing_ ,” she hissed. “You, Theon. You held all the cards, all the balls, all the whatever analogy or cliched metaphor you want to choose to describe this fucking situation. You’re the one who has had all the women and all the experience.”

“Oh, you’re shaming me for having a past now?”

“I _never_ would,” she replied. “Let me finish.”

He pursed his lips and crossed his arms. Waiting.

“I didn’t know where I stood with you. I didn’t know if I was keeping you from what you truly wanted to be doing. I was the one who dragged you into this mess and maybe you were acting out of an actual need for me, or maybe it was just… _need_ in general.”

“Are you accusing me of being such a hound that I’d attempt to coax you into bed only to dump you later? For a lark? I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“I’m sorry, are you _with_ any of your other girlfriends?” She looked around the room. “Where are they?”

“Sansa…” he stopped talking, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to say except you must think the very worst of me.”

“No, I don’t,” she insisted, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. “I don’t. I think the best of you. I think you’re a good man, you took the shit that fate gave you and spun gold out of it. I wish I could be half as good at that as you. I wish I could be someone you’d actually want to be with. Someone who doesn’t make stupid mistakes and has to beg and lie and cheat my way into someone’s good graces.”

“You _are_ someone I actually want to be with,” he countered.

“Bullshit,” she spat.

“Not bullshit. I’m not blowing sunshine up your arse here, Sansa. I want you. I _like_ you. I like that you are pigheaded and absolutely unable to see the forest for the trees. I like that I have to fight you to do the dishes. I like that you cannot keep a houseplant alive. Not a single one even though you work at a plant shop.”

“The snake plant’s alive,” she sniffed, nodding towards the pot by the door.

“I thought that was fake until this moment,” he admitted. “Okay, so you kill every plant except the ones that I think are fake, and I adore that.”

“You never told me you liked me.”

“Sansa! Love, I sucked on your earlobe.”

“I thought that was just a move.”

“I don’t have moves.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, sure you don’t.”

“I don’t. None that work, if you couldn’t tell how crazy I am about you.”

“I wasn’t trying to jerk you around, Theon…” she took a deep breath and stood up, cupping her hands over her mouth to try to calm down. “I wasn’t, I promise. I don’t even know how to do that. Gods, it makes me sick to think that you---”

“Sans,” he reached out, brushing his fingers over her arm. “Sans.”

“I didn’t, Theon, I didn’t. I’ve always looked up to you. Even when I used to fancy you in high school and you were an ass to me, I still looked up to you.”

“I was an ass because I liked you, and I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“You still don’t,” she said with a watery smile.

“Okay, so I’m shit at picking words, don’t hold that against me.”

“I’m apparently shit at everything,” she sniffed.

“Don’t do that. Don’t feel sorry for yourself,” he teased, reaching for her wrists and pulling her in for a hug. He waited until he wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed. “Just let me hold you against me, I’m good at this part.”

“At hugging?” she asked.

“No… this part.” He nuzzled her nose with his before pressing his lips to hers.

She inhaled sharply and he pressed into her, his lips pulling at hers like he couldn’t get enough. Sansa moaned in the back of her throat and he swallowed the sound, one arm wrapping around her waist and the other pushing her hair out of the way.

“Gods, I’ve wanted to do this since you walked out of Marg’s,” he whispered.

“I wanted you to.”

He chuckled. “We’re a pair, aren’t we?”

“Not yet,” she leaned up and kissed him again, reaching for his hand and tugging him back towards the hallway. She was still facing him, grinning like an idiot when he knelt and hoisted her over his shoulder.

“Theon!” she shrieked, earning a swat on her arse while he carried her back to her bedroom.

He pushed open the door, reaching for the light switch, one hand on her arse as he moved. He squeezed and she shrieked with laughter until he bent to place her back on the floor. She slid down his front until her toes brushed the carpet, both arms around him as she slowly looked up at him.

“Fuck you are gorgeous,” he whispered.

She smiled and stepped back towards the bed, hooking her fingers in his shirt and tugging him along with her.

“Say more things,” she directed, sitting down on the edge of the bed as he knelt down in front of her. She spread her knees apart and he moved between them, his hands slid up her thighs and under her skirt to tug on the waistband of her nylons.

“You drive me crazy,” he continued. “With your long legs. I could stare at you walking all day, but I’d rather have them wrapped around me like they were when we…” he stopped talking, gently pulling her nylons off over her hips and down her legs. He tossed them aside when he got them off, his hands running up her thighs skin to skin. “Fuck, Sansa…”

“Wrapped around you how?”

His smile was crooked as he ducked down to press kisses to the inside of her knee. “Any way you want to do it,” He gently lifted her leg until it was fully extended and then kissed up her thigh. “I’d love it if they were around my waist, but I’d gladly die if they were wrapped around my head.

“Theon…” she murmured, every brush of his lips igniting something in her blood that made her stop thinking altogether. He sucked on the sensitive skin, releasing her with a pop and not taking his eyes off her. “I don’t want you to die.”

“It’d be worth it,” he countered, nudging down further as he parted her legs more and rucked the skirt up around her waist. “The only reason I’m not tearing this off of you is that it’s Marg’s.”

“If I went and put something of mine on, would you tear it off?”

“I couldn’t wait long enough for you to change, but maybe next time,” he grinned and kissed all the way up to the crease in her thigh. To where her knickers were situated. Mere inches away from where she was aching to be touched. She was leaning back on the bed when he sat back on the floor again, reaching for her other leg.

“Theon, for fuck’s sake…”

“Joke’s on you, I love it when you say my name,” he teased, his tongue sliding over her skin and leaving a shiny trail behind it. He nuzzled against her, pressing kisses along her hip as he pulled one thigh up over his shoulder. When he finally nuzzled his nose over her mound she thought she might scream. Especially when he hummed like she smelled amazing. He ran his tongue over her sex, wetting her knickers and making her shiver and press towards him. She tensed when he did it again, prompting him to smooth his hand up her thigh, reaching for one of hers and lacing their fingers. He inhaled deeply and let out a very slow moan. He turned to kiss her thigh again, the one draped over his shoulder.

She made a sound she’d never admit was a whimper when he reached up to tug down her knickers. She had a moment of self-consciousness as she tried to remember exactly what her situation was down there, but he was quick to whisper against her thigh. “You’re fucking beautiful. So wet and… pink… gods, Sansa…” He rubbed his hand over her sex, two fingers massaging her while a third slipped through her folds, brushing lightly over her and making her legs shake.

She bit down on her lip and gave herself over to the light, teasing touches. His other hand reached up to her face, thumb plucking her lip from between her teeth. “Don’t do that, love. Let me hear you.”

He ran his thumb over her bottom lip, rising up on his knees to close the distance between them. When he kissed her, his thumb was on her cheek and he was still lightly massaging her quim.

She rocked forward and he smiled. “Not yet, I haven’t even seen all of you.”

“Fuck how are you so _good_ at this?” she asked, closing her eyes as his fingers left her sex. He rose off his knees and took her hand, pulling her up with him. He held her close with one hand, reaching around to tug on the zipper of her dress with the other. He fumbled at the back for a long moment.

“I’m not, apparently,” he laughed and she brought his hand to her side, where the hidden zipper was along her rib cage. She grinned when he tugged it down and proceeded to pull the dress up and over her head.

His hand smoothed over her lower back, And she clung to his front, pulling him closer for another kiss. “Yes, you are. But you are very overdressed.”

“A travesty,” he deadpanned. “Give me a hand with that, would you?”

He held her close while she undid every button of his oxford, yanking it from the waistband of his trousers so he could shrug it off on the floor.

His belt proved a bit more difficult, given that he wasn’t willing to let her go and had taken to rolling her nipples beneath his thumbs, which was very distracting and made it difficult to get the damn thing unbuckled.

But Sansa persevered and yanked open the clasp and zipper. Only then did he take a step back and push the trousers down and over his hips. He kicked them off along with his socks. His pants stayed in place, but a bulge was clearly visible. He stepped closer again. “Better?” he asked.

“Almost,” she grinned and slid his pants down as well.

He grinned and gathered her in his arms once more, divesting his pants as he let her fall gently back on the mattress. She pushed up on her elbows to watch him.

He sat on his knees and let his eyes roam up and down her nude body to the point where she almost wanted to cover herself, but then he moved. Stopping to kiss her thigh. Her hip. Navel. Between her breasts and up her throat. She turned and found his lips, allowing her hands to wander.

Down over his chest and abdomen, he smiled against her lips and tensed when she let her fingertips dance across the skin just above his navel. She filed that spot away for later and continued down, her fingers moving down further still, finding him stiff as she wrapped them around his member.

He swore softly as she slowly explored his cock, winding her fingers around and dragging them down slowly. His head dropped to her shoulder when she squeezed him, moving her fist up and down the shaft, finding a rhythm that made his breath stutter while he sucked hot kisses to her shoulder and neck. He finally reached down to stop her, rolling over so he was balancing over her. He lowered his head to her throat.

“Beautiful girl…” he murmured. “Do you know how long I’ve dreamt of this?”

“Not half as long as I have,” she countered, smirking when he stopped kissing her to shoot her a look.

“It’s not a competition, Sansa…”

“Not much of one.”

“Right then, I’m going to instruct you to find something to hold onto.” He nodded to her hands, which were languidly laying on either side of her head on the pillow.

She arched a brow at him, taking in his messy hair and dark eyes. She giggled.

“I warned you, Sans,” he said, scooting down between her legs. He lifted one of them onto his shoulder like before, bending down until he was breathing hot breath over her sex.

She had only enough time to groan when he slowly ran his tongue over her slit. And then her hands flailed out for something to grab when he licked through her folds, encircling her clit before fluttering over it.

“Theon,” she gasped, her hands hitting the headboard and scrambling for purchase on something solid.

With his lips softly sucking against her skin, he reached up and grabbed one of her flailing hands, pressing it to the back of his head and refocusing on making her feel like a bunch of raw nerves out in the open.

She gripped his hair and felt his groan more than heard it. He moved lower, his tongue flicking in and out of her opening as he pressed his palm flat against her other thigh, ensuring she was open wide and he was able to do as he wished.

“Fuck,” she whimpered when he started to softly suck on her clit, releasing it just as quickly as he drew it in.

Her thighs started shaking when he added his fingers, two of them, crooked slightly while he pushed them inside her. His thumb softly stroked that space between her clit and her opening and she honestly never thought anything could feel as good as what he was doing.

She couldn’t form words, but her whimpers turned into moans, tears pricking her eyes the further he took her, alternating sucking her clit with a soft fluttering of his tongue until she felt her hips start to buck up towards his face. He made a sound of approval, his fingers thrusting shallowly and pressing against a spot that made her see white.

As things progressed, he was slowly licking across her clit, driving her pleasure purely with his fingers and thumb, until the burning ache was too much and she started begging.

Her voice had taken on a high pitched quality that she honestly thought would have sounded fake, but he seemed to respond to it.

“Theon, please, please… “she crooned, her hand still gripping his hair.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice almost muffled because she was holding so tightly he couldn’t pull away very far. How he was able to sound like a smug prick with her juices all over his face, she wasn’t able to discern, but he did. She could just hear the curl of his lips before he pressed them back to her clit.

“You fucking know,” she moaned, sounding whinier than she’d like to admit.

“I don’t, you’ll have to tell me.”

“Theon, make me come, please…”

“If you wanted that, you could have asked at the beginning.”

“THEON.”

He hummed against her sex, rapidly flicking her clit until she couldn’t think anymore, couldn’t see, couldn’t hear past the blood rushing in her ears. She was saying something, something she couldn’t make out as his name until she fell back limp on the bed, hands drifting to her belly and her knees falling open to either side. Theon rose up over her, his lips and chin shining before he brought his hand up to wipe it away. He grinned like he’d won something, licking his lips and crawling over her body to kiss her lips.

His lips felt damp and he smelled like _her_ , but Sansa didn’t care, she somehow brought her arm up to wrap around the back of his head again. “I didn’t hurt your head, did I?”

“Darling you were brilliant,” he assured her. “Not as brilliant as I was, but I’ll cut you some slack. You were in the throes of ecstasy, it’s hard to be fully brilliant at a time like that.”

“I’m going to get you back for that,” she promised.

He responded by kissing her softly. “You could just let me have my triumph, you know.”

“Never,” she grinned, her eyes fluttering closed as she kissed him again.

“You’re a wicked woman, Sansa Stark.”

“You like that, don’t you?”

“Too much,” he replied. She brought her leg up and around his back, tugging him closer until she could feel the slippery feel of his cock as he slid along the juncture of her thigh. “I need a condom,” he murmured. “I have one in my trousers if you’ll let go of me.”

She shook her head, reaching to the side and only succeeding in smacking the top of her bedside table. “There’s some in there.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Sansa. I’m scandalized. I thought I was the only one in your bed.”

“You flatter yourself, Theon. You’re the only one in a while.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up when he leaned over and pulled open the drawer, pulling out a foil square and sitting back on his feet to tear it open.

“You want to be on top, or?” He gestured vaguely as he pulled the condom from the foil.

“I don’t know how to be on top,” she faltered.

“I could help you along, it feels amazing,” His eyes fluttered closed as he moved his fist up and down his cock to roll it on and ensure it was where it needed to be.

“I… If you want, I could try?”

He smirked. “Next time, Sans. I’ll help you ride me. I want this to be comfortable for you. Learning something new can be awkward.”

He leaned forward again. “Just wrap these beautiful legs around me and make a dream come true, ‘kay?”

She flushed as she wound both her legs around his waist and he slid the tip of his cock through her folds, making her gasp when he rubbed over her still sensitive clit.

“Gods, you’re so wet…”

“Whose fault is that?” she teased.

“I suppose that’d be mine,” he grinned wickedly and pressed his hips forward. He entered her easily, his hips locking against hers. He caught her gaze and held it. His cheeks flushed pink and his arms shook slightly, the veins bulging on his forearms as he hovered over her. “You okay?”

His voice sounded choked and it was her turn to grin. “Are you?”

“No, I’m in heaven,” he answered, pulling back and pushing forward. She kept her calves balanced on top of his arse as he moved, synchronizing her thighs with his movements, squeezing and pulling him in when he thrust forward.

His eyes fluttered closed, her name an exhale with every breath he took. “Fuck, Sansa you feel… gods, you’re so wet. Hot. Fuck…”

She licked her lips and squeezed him more, causing a strangled groan to burst through his lips into the room.

He shifted slightly, sitting on his knees as he gripped her hips and held her still while he fucked into her, every thrust snapping rapidly and the change in the angle made her breath catch in her throat. “Theon,” she whispered.

“Yes?” he murmured, sounding like he was very pleased with her reaction. “Like that? Right there?”

She nodded, reaching up to grip the headboard and keep him from pushing her up the bed. Every press of his hips felt perfect, his cock hitting that same place inside her that had made her vision go white. Except that this time, it wasn’t white, it was bright. She could see him vividly, his lips parted, breath coming fast and hard. His eyes were barely open, but what little she could see was dark, his pupils blown so wide, he looked like a man possessed.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered.

“I’ll do my best, you feel so good…” His eyes closed and he rose up further on his knees, sharpening the angle and making her clench around him. “Gods, Sansa…”

She could feel his back stiffening, his hips stuttering in the attempt to keep from finishing yet.

Reaching down between them, she found her clit with two fingers, rolling it in time with his thrusts and falling apart with a sigh. Not as intense as the first had been, but fucking lovely all the same.

He groaned out something that sounded like her name before his legs started shaking, his pace faltering. “Fuck, I’m coming… Sansa… Sansa…” His fingers dug into her hips and she made sure to squeeze her legs around his waist, to hold him close until he stopped thrusting, his breath coming out in shaky bursts.

He sat down, his cock still semi-hard inside her. She squeezed, grinning at him as he jolted, a sound escaping his lips as he smiled languidly at her. “That’s not fair, that.”

“You feel really good, can’t help it.”

He bent over her, pulling out as he kissed her lips. Soft pecks, lazy, and slow. She draped her arms around his shoulders and he pressed his sweaty forehead to hers. “I think that cleared my head.”

She laughed. “Not too much, I hope.”

He sighed happily and rolled to one side, tugging her with him so she could tuck herself under his arm. Her fingers trailed lightly over his chest, drawing invisible patterns on his skin. She thought about returning to that spot on his belly that was clearly a ticklish place but decided to save that for later.

“Nah I have a few thoughts left,” he said slowly, tucking one hand behind his head.

“You gonna share?”

“I think you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

She frowned. “How so?”

“I think you’d be brilliant at the samba.”

She craned her neck to look up at him. “Smug idiot.”

“You like me this way.”

“Gods help me, I do.”

He tightened his hold on her and she allowed her hands to wander down to that ticklish spot after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos are love. Comments are food for my muse. Thank youuuuuuuu!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here's the next chapter. I had said I wasn't going to post until tomorrow or Monday, but I'm impatient. So here you go! 
> 
> I'm going to shoot for Monday updates from now on, though. So Monday, May 11 for the next one. Also notice, I updated the chapter count to accurately reflect what I have planned. We are officially past the halfway point now.
> 
> This is a Theon chapter, and he's killing me. You guys. He's killing me. Goddddddddddd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to treaddelicately, AKA my awesome beta who I bother constantly about this fic.

**THEON**

* * *

Sansa plopped down beside him in bed, skin still damp and warm, fresh from a shower. “I don’t have a lot of time before I have to get ready, but I thought we could…” He turned towards her, moving his hand up and down her bare abdomen, his fingers tickling as he went. She tried in vain to make him stop. “Theon!”

Grinning, he leaned over to kiss her neck, his hand moving languidly up her torso until he could cup her breast in his hand. “Five more minutes,” he pleaded, his voice muffled while he stroked her nipple until it pebbled beneath his thumb.

“I can give you ten,” she countered. “What do you want to do?”

“I’ll give you one guess.” He brought his head up so he could lock eyes with her. She chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip before giving in.

“Okay but you’re going to have to help me,” Sansa laughed. She lifted her thigh up and over his hips, her hair wet and sticking to her shoulders when she shifted on top of him. Reaching back to sort out the damp mess of hair and unstick it from her shoulders, she wriggled her shoulders and pressed down against him. Theon grasped her hips and rocked up, causing her to squeak with the movement.

He grinned and rubbed his thumbs over her hip bones, admiring the view. Sansa’s skin was creamy and smooth, the morning sun flickered through the blinds and illuminated her. When she straightened her back like she was, her breasts were tantalizingly in reach, but he couldn’t decide between holding her hips in place or teasing her nipples. Both seemed like worthwhile ways to spend the morning.

“You’re bad for my time management,” she accused, letting her hair fall against her back. “This is going to take way longer than ten minutes and I’m not going to have time to properly put on my makeup now.”

“It’s the first day of class, though… who are you trying to impress?” he teased.

“My professor, for one…” she answered, her eyes closing when he repeated the movement, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of her arse. She ground down so slightly, it could have been involuntary.

“I can just go over the process and we can pick this up later?” he offered, grinning because he knew she wouldn’t go for that at all.

“You’re going to rile me up and send me to class?” she asked, her blue eyes wide with mock innocence. “Not sure that’s the best idea, but…”

He brought his fingers up to tickle her sides and she collapsed against him, giggling and giving him access to more of her ticklish spots. When she writhed against him, it made his cock get impossibly hard, so she really presented no valid reasons for him to stop.

She seemed to notice the pressure the longer he teased her, taking that bottom lip of hers between her teeth to hide a wicked grin at the knowledge. Now when she moved, it had a purpose, grinding her sex over his. He could feel her slipping against him. Getting wetter the longer she kept at it.

They’d been toying with the idea of having her on top the entire weekend, but something kept coming up. Usually his desire to blow her mind and leave her trembling. It was a heady experience, being the cause of pure unadulterated pleasure. One he enjoyed too much to switch things up just yet.

But, she was practically on her way out to class, so it seemed like the perfect time to give her riding lessons, yes?

“You want me to show you how?” he asked, the question sounding more desperate than he’d first intended, but it matched his sentiment entirely. He was desperate for her. No matter how much he’d had her this weekend. She was leaving and he wanted her more if that was possible.

They had to go back to the real world, one where you didn’t get to eat pizza naked in bed and have athletic, crazy hot sex until you were too tired to move. And lazy sex first thing in the morning. Or get a blow job in the shower.

He wasn’t ready to give this up just yet. He didn’t want to pop the bubble. And going about their regular lives definitely would.

“Yes, show me,” she whispered, straightening her back and squaring her shoulders. Which put her lovely breasts on display once more, but he had to focus. He could play with those in a moment. He reached over for the top drawer of her side table, realizing with a grin that they’d almost blown through the entire box of condoms she’d had in there.

He pulled one out, tearing it open and rolling it down his cock as quickly as he was able to.

“Rise up,” he murmured, tapping her thigh until she did. He took himself in hand and dragged the rigid tip through her arousal. “You feel that?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered, a soft moan breaking the silence whenever he brushed over her clit.

“How about that?” he slotted his cock in her opening and heard her resulting gasp. She nodded.

“Yes.”

He let go and brought his hand back to her hip. “Now sink down… until you can’t anymore.”

It was exquisite torture, given how slowly she impaled herself on him.

Once she’d seated herself snugly against his hips, he let out the breath he was holding. “Now just squeeze your thighs… and release, just keep doing that… fuck _yes_ , Sansa…”

She grinned, her eyes fluttering closed while she moved, slowly at first. Achingly slowly. But she soon sped up.

“Oh, fuck, hurts my thighs…” she murmured.

“You want to trade?” he asked, his eyes glued down to where they were joined so he could watch her quim as his cock disappeared into it.

“No, no… it’s just a whole new set of muscles… feels too good to stop.”

She found a rhythm that made his words come out all spluttery and random. He gasped whatever he could. “Fuck. Sansa. Gods. _Fuck_ …”

She reached for his hands, lacing their fingers, and using him for leverage. He supported her weight gladly as she leaned forward and changed the angle.

“Gods, Theon…” Her eyes were closed, her brow furrowed as she rode him.

He braced her weight while she moved, sort of at a loss because he thought he’d have to do more, but she’d really just sort of taken over.

Her hair was wet and falling into his face when she bent over him, the cold tendrils brushing over his forehead and flooding his nose with her scent. The floral, soapy scent of her shampoo, and the much headier scent of their sex.

He felt her thighs clench around his hips and she flipped her hair back as she straightened, her back moving into an arch while she bounced on top of him.

“Gods, I don’t know if I can…” she exhaled loudly and Theon wrenched one hand free, reaching down to roll his thumb over her clit until her walls were gripping him so fucking tight, he thought he might explode inside her.

He felt her shudder, felt her stuttering rhythm while she slowed down. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip and gripped her waist when he rolled them over. He hooked one of her legs over his shoulder as he pressed down into her, knowing he wasn’t going to last long. Not after watching her come all over him like that.

Her head was lying back on the pillow, her lips parted while she panted his name over and over again, in time with the snap of his hips.

“You feel so good, Theon…” she murmured.

“Yeah?” he couldn’t manage more than one or two words, she was squeezing him with aftershocks of her orgasm and he was starting to shake a little, throwing off the steadiness of his thrusting, but it didn’t matter.

The ache in the base of his spine finally burst and warmth flooded through him.

“Fuck, Sans…” He squeezed his eyes shut, his hips snapping harder and harder until he felt it flow out of him in waves. “Fuck…”

She slipped her leg off his shoulder and he collapsed against her, his head pillowed by her breasts. He sighed when her fingers came up to card through his hair. “I don’t want to leave...” she murmured, trailing off and leaving the rest unsaid.

“But you have to,” he finished for her, pressing a kiss to her breastbone. “I know you do.”

“I’m finished at three today.”

“Are you working?”

“No, I have the week off so I can get used to my school schedule.”

He smiled and kissed her again. “I’ll probably be at the house today.” He felt her nod slowly. “I’ll meet you there and we can get dinner? You wanna go out or get takeaway?”

“I’ll cook,” she replied. “Have to run by the grocery store, though. I think I’m out of exactly everything.”

“If you text me a list, I’ll get it all later.”

“Nah, I’d rather go. You can come with me, though.” She shifted slightly, making like she was going to sit up, so Theon grudgingly rolled over to let her.

“Yeah, we can do that…” he replied.

“What?” she asked, standing on wobbly legs and crossing the floor naked to pull a pair of knickers out of her top drawer.

“What, what?” he countered.

“You trailed off like you had more to say.”

“Nothing. It’s just that grocery shopping… It’s sort of domestic, isn’t it?” He was teasing her, but she hadn’t looked at him just yet.

Sansa was frowning when she turned, so when she caught sight of his goofy grin, she sighed and rolled her eyes. “You’re a right git sometimes, you know that?”

“I’ve heard that somewhere before, but I’m not sure I agree…” He rolled out of the bed and walked out of her room and across the hall to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and wash up.

She was still talking as she got dressed, though. “I can just go shopping when I get out of class today, it’s really no trouble.”

“Sansa, I was teasing you. I really want to go with you,” he called.

“Do you?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he said, glancing at his reflection in the mirror. “I like doing things with you.”

“What things?”

“Shagging, for one. I really enjoy that.”

“This is shopping, though. You might be right, we might not be ready for something so… _domestic_.” Her voice was right behind him, so he peeked over his shoulder and grinned at her standing in the bathroom doorway. Her tone dripped with sarcasm, though. And she was eyeing his body like a wolf stalking prey.

Theon had decided sometime recently that he liked it.

“She said to the naked man in her bathroom,” he teased, turning back to the sink and running some water to splash on his face.

She was silent for a long moment. Until he turned back to grin at her, blinking the water from his eyes as he fumbled for a towel. “You’re sure you want to?” she asked.

Theon made a choice right then to never ever tease about this sort of thing again. “Yes. I want to,” he replied.

The corner of her mouth twitched before she came over and shoved him out of the way. Gently, though. In that way she had of reacting when her feelings got the better of her. Which was a good sign, at least. She believed him.

Sansa ran a comb through her hair. It was still damp, but it was drying rapidly, shining golden auburn in the artificial light of her bathroom. She rummaged on a shelf she had beside the sink and pulled out a tube of lipstick, unrolling it and applying it to her lips. She caught his eye in the mirror, grinning.

“What?” he asked.

“What, what?” she countered, mimicking him from earlier.

“You’re the one grinning at me.”

“You’re the one watching me put on lipstick.”

“Yeah…” he trailed off for a moment. “Don’t want you to go.”

Her eyes warmed when she poked out her bottom lip. “Dammit, Theon, you’re adorable.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.” A damnable lie, he was always trying to be adorable around her.

“Still, you are. And it’s just like… seven hours anyway. I’ll see you in seven hours.”

It wasn’t long, and yet… it sort of was?

“This is your last semester, right?” he asked.

She snorted. “So long as I don’t fail any classes, yeah.”

“Okay, well.. You’d better go then. Go pass the classes and graduate so you can stay in bed with me,” he replied flippantly.

“I don’t think you understand the point of a degree. You see, I’ll get it, and then I’ll get a job.” She was giggling as she laid out each step slowly like he was dense or something.

“In _this_ economy?” he jibed.

She shot him a look that was a bit softer than her usual Stark death glare, but not much. He smirked and the look melted even more.

“I know you’ll be in high demand once you graduate,” he replied. “I’m under no false assumptions.”

“You still get first dibs on all my free time, though,” she said.

“That’s enough for me,” he assured, and she turned to wrap her arms around him. It felt sort of weird, hugging her when she was fully clothed, and he was still completely naked.

“I have to go, or I’ll never get a parking place…” she whispered.

“I’ll see you at three?” he said.

“At three,” she assured him, leaning over to plant a kiss on his lips. Something more than a peck, but less than the open-mouthed variety she’d been doling out the entire weekend. Nonetheless, he smiled when she left the bathroom.

Then, he got in the shower and didn’t hear her leave the flat.

The shower wasn’t hot enough, but he didn’t really care. He’d already taken one the night before, this was just pure decadence beyond the initial rinsing off.

Once he’d gotten out and dressed, the clock on the wall read eight-thirty. He opted to eat one of Sansa’s pop tarts for breakfast and throw together a sandwich to take with him for lunch. He’d chip in on the groceries that afternoon whether she wanted him to or not. He then proceeded to duck out of her flat, locking the door behind him.

It felt like almost the second he set foot outside her flat, everything caught up to him.

All the second thoughts and guilt and realizations that there was no fucking way he could keep doing this. That if she knew what he’d done, she’d never look at him like she did that morning. It all hit him like a dump truck emptying its contents on top of him where he stood. The good night’s sleep wrapped in her arms meant nothing. His arms felt weight down and heavy. He had to physically drag himself into movement.

Climbing into his truck, he started the engine, taking a long moment to stare straight ahead while the engine idled and warmed up a bit.

He didn’t dare remain for too long, but once he started driving, he took the now-familiar route to his house and tried like hell not to think about every little thing that was beating down on the top of his head like it was trying to get him to drill a hole in the ground beneath him. A hole. A grave, more like. And pull the dirt back over his head and there he’d be.

Maybe it was where he needed to be. Buried away from everyone he’d hurt.

Because this _would_ hurt Sansa. Once she found out what he’d done to her father. Once Ramsay made good on his threat. Theon wasn’t sure how he was going to do it. Or when. But he knew he’d gone and pissed Ramsay off by getting involved with Sansa. And he’d somehow given him another way to hurt him. To keep hurting him. Ramsay could reveal this one bit of information and simultaneously destroy the pride Mr. Stark had in him, his friendship with Robb, and his relationship with Sansa, all in one horrible swoop.

He pressed his lips together as he pulled into the drive of his house. He hit the curb funny and the resulting bump rattled his teeth, causing him to bite down painfully on his bottom lip. He jammed the truck into park and climbed out, jingling his keys to find the right one to open the front door, determined to stop thinking about Ramsay and his threats the second he crossed the threshold.

It smelled like paint and wallpaper glue when he first opened it. The smell grounded him in the present and while the worries were still there, they felt muted as he forced himself to take stock of everything he’d done.

There couldn’t be that much left to do, right? He feverishly looked around the living room. He had to call HVAC to get the heating fixed. But besides that, he was basically finished, right? He walked through the house, stopping in the kitchen for a long moment before turning and walking towards the master bedroom.

It was close to nine AM by now. That meant he was down to six hours until he could see Sansa again. The thought lightened his heart. If he could just push the rest of that stuff down and keep his mind on her, he could manage.

So he let his mind wander while he strolled into the master bedroom and gazed up at the ceiling. When he looked up, he thought about the way she’d looked up at him, her blue eyes wide and dark while he worked his fingers in and out of her, helping her reach her peak with just his touch and nothing more. He smirked a little, eyes blinking up at the popcorn ceiling, but his mind was miles away with her in bed. It was hard not to feel like a fucking sex god when she looked at him like that.

The thing was, he’d been alright before her. Alright, but not spectacular. The women he was with never complained, but he knew he could do better, he just hadn’t really felt pushed to do better. No need to fix what wasn’t broken, right? But there was something about the way she touched him, gripped his hair, said his name… it just made him _better_. At everything. He wasn’t like this with any of the others. Just her.

He swallowed thickly and let his eyes focus on the ceiling. He still had to knock all this out and vault the ceiling.

Theon turned around and crossed the hall to step into the bathroom, pulling the string on the bare bulb and looking around the space that had been built under the stairs. The previous owners had expanded the room to create a little alcove that extended into the living room adjacent to the stairs. They’d done it to put in a bathtub instead of just a shower stall.

The shower made him think of the particularly lovely experience he’d had the night before. When Sansa had slipped into the shower with him and dropped to her knees, taking his cock in her mouth and making him wonder what in the fuck he’d ever done to deserve someone as wonderful as her.

And okay, she was a little sloppy in her technique, but it was _Sansa_ , he could forgive the bloody technique.

Sniffing to bring himself out of the memory, he blinked down at the shower stall. At the tub.

Now that he was looking, the tub looked a little grungy. And the tile could stand to be regrouted. Or replaced entirely.

And new paint would be remiss either.

The swinging bulb was making a circuit at the end of the cord it was hanging from, casting a moving center of light that made everything look that much worse.

He’d install a light fixture as well.

As he crossed back out into the living room, he paused in front of the couch. The one where she was supposed to sleep that first night that felt like so long ago but was actually just weeks before.

Her hair had gotten in his face. In his mouth. Theon chuckled because he’d never thought of tying it back now. He loved it.

 _Liked_ it. He liked her hair in his face.

He moved to the bottom of the staircase and tested the banister out of habit. Solid as a stone. Handrail too. He’d fixed the banister in those days after she’d run out of here. It gave him something to do, but it hadn’t been enough to keep his mind off her.

Now, he’d do anything to keep his thoughts centered around her. What a difference a few days made.

The time he spent upstairs was minimal. It was just a large room that extended the length of the house. The ceiling was bare though, so he could probably break this up into smaller rooms if he wanted. Hell, it wouldn’t be hard to get two more bedrooms up here. Maybe a den too. And a second half-bath.

It was probably what the previous owners wanted to do with the place, but hadn’t gotten further than fucking up the basement.

A three-bedroom house with an extra half bath and a den would fetch a much greater price. And it wouldn’t take long to complete it at all.

As he walked back downstairs, the thought pervaded that he’d really just like more time to make memories here with Sansa. Maybe it wouldn’t be so abysmal if he could feel her presence here like he could at her flat. It’d be safe. Like her flat was safe.

They’d be safe in here and nothing could reach them.

It was a stupid thought. He knew that. A house couldn’t keep her safe from learning that her boyfriend was scum who’d screwed over her father. And Jon. Fuck, he hadn’t really thought about how this was going to affect Jon.

He breathed in and out slowly, pushing those negative thoughts out and refocusing on the task at hand.

It could take him at least another couple of months to fix everything. In the meantime, he’d like to make memories here with Sansa.

Ones that weren’t being caught by her sister and freaking her out with the thought of his past paramours.

Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, Theon glanced at the couch and the floor. He had to get a bed. He’d never taken any of his girls to bed and if he took Sansa to one, it’d be different. She’d feel more secure. In her position.

_Which was what, idiot? My woman?_

As much as he hated to think of owning anyone, he sort of liked the idea of Sansa being his. He was already hers, so it was only fair, right?

But back to the bed. He’d need to either buy or procure a bed frame. There was a box spring and a mattress with a few of his other belongings stashed in Robb’s attic.

There was always the possibility of buying a bed frame at Lannismart, but there was another option that appealed to him more. He could build one. It wouldn’t take much time at all. A couple of days, perhaps? He’d have to make the frame and the legs, and then a headboard.

Theon pulled out a small notebook he kept in his back pocket and started sketching out a design, using his phone for the measurements of a queen-sized mattress, because that’s what he had at Robb’s.

After running a few calculations through the corresponding app on his phone, he figured that if he hurried, the bed could be ready by the weekend.

He exhaled and saw his breath puff out in a cloud around him. Right. HVAC. Pulling out his phone, Theon made the call. They were professional. Perfunctory. He’d worked with them in the past so they knew what he was looking for.

They’d send someone out here tomorrow to run diagnostics and hopefully fix whatever was wrong with the motor. He had to assume it was the motor because everything else seemed to work, but no air was being pushed through the vents. It was outside his pay grade and training to fix it himself. Plus, he despised heating and cooling systems and therefore was fine hiring someone else to take care of it.

After getting off the phone with the HVAC company, he locked up and went back out to his truck to drive to the lumberyard.

He was decidedly more upbeat on this drive. Didn’t feel so much like a nail getting hammered into the ground. In fact, he was whistling by the time he parked in the lumber yard. He had a spring in his step while he walked through the warehouse, looking at the different types of wood and pricing which one he’d need.

He did approximate math in his head to see just how much it would all cost and was pleasantly surprised with his rounded up total.

“What are you building? A coffin to lie in after all this is out in the open?”

The voice made his skin crawl and when he turned around, he couldn’t keep the contempt from his face. “No.”

Ramsay smirked and reached out to swat at one of the price signs hanging from a pile of 2 x 4s.

Theon considered hauling off and smacking him with one of the planks nearby, but there were too many witnesses here. Ramsay hadn’t replied to his previous statement so he snapped back at him. “What do you want?”

“Touchy, touchy, Theon. You’ve been downright unkind to me the last two times I’ve seen you. This isn’t how you treat old friends. I’m liable to just stop reaching out altogether.”

“Tell me how to get there and I will,” Theon muttered.

“Oh trust me,” Ramsay sneered. “You’ll want some kind of warning of what to expect. I find it makes people squirm more, but also makes them think they have a fighting chance. And you know how much I love the fight, Theon.” He glared at him until Ramsay spoke again. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

Ramsay raised his eyebrows expectantly and since there were people milling around in the warehouse, Theon pressed his lips together and repeated. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

“Oh, that’s much better. How’s Sansa?”

Theon inhaled sharply, something twisting deep in his gut and he had to grip the edge of the wood in front of him to keep from attacking him for even daring to speak her name.

“She’s fine.”

“Glad to hear it. Now… I’ll make this quick. Because as much as I enjoy dragging things out, I can also find great pleasure in striking quickly. Suffice it to say I have something you’d be very interested in seeing.”

Theon raised his eyebrows. “That stuff I sent you? I’ve already seen it.”

“No, no, no. Not that. What do you take me for? An idiot? No. I have something you haven’t seen before…” he paused, a sickening grin starting to take shape. “Well, I guess you _have_ seen it. Maybe not like this. Or this version… or…” he trailed off and pulled out his phone.

But instead, two pairs of footsteps stopped Ramsay dead in his tracks.

“Hi Theon,” a familiar voice stated. More of an announcement than a greeting. Theon glanced up to see Jon and Ygritte standing there. He’d honestly never been so happy to see Jon’s ugly mug than he was right then. He could have hugged him, but he didn’t. Jon wouldn’t take kindly to Theon’s show of emotion. At the very least he’d push him away.

Ramsey pushed his phone back into his pocket and slunk off before Theon could blink. Jon was a cop and Ygritte also worked for law enforcement in another division. The last place Ramsay wanted to be stuck was between two cops.

Theon did blink when he turned towards Jon and Ygritte. He was grateful for the reprieve and was about to say as much but Jon continued talking, lowering his voice so no one else could hear.

“If you drag Sansa into _anything_ with that man, I will kill you myself.”

Theon was speechless for a moment, unsure of how to react to Jon’s terrifying expression.

“I… I was just buying lumber.”

Jon’s brow jumped a little. He sniffed derisively like he didn’t believe him.

“It’s true. I’d never--”

“Just be very sure that you don’t.”

It had never been so apparent to Theon how very unfriendly he and Jon actually were. They didn’t really hang out without Robb as a buffer. In fact, the only thing they had in common was their love for Robb.

Jon had come over and helped him out on occasion. But never without Arya.

And he’d string him up by his toenails if he found out what Theon had used his car for the night he helped Sansa.

“I don’t intend to,” he said, feeling more than a bit defensive.

Ygritte spoke up finally. Bless her. “Theon, I’m glad we saw you here…” She glared over at Jon for a moment. “I’d like to pick your brain for a mo’, if you don’t mind.”

She had some plans for a bookshelf that she looked very much like she didn’t need his help with. But Theon welcomed the distraction and truly, the time he spent going over her plans helped to dissipate the foul mood. Which left them with a very neutral, but very nonvolatile one.

But leave it to Jon to have to hammer in his point once more once Ygritte had finished. It was like no time had passed at all, he jumped right back in. “Theon? I swear to you--”

“He heard you the first time, for fuck’s sake, Jon.” Ygritte sighed in exasperation. “You don’t know anything about what was going on. So drop it. You know nothing.”

Jon turned to lock eyes with his girlfriend, blinking a couple of times.

Theon didn’t really know how to react either.

Ygritte rolled her eyes at Jon and sighed. “Theon, you’re not going to drag Sansa into any bullshit with Ramsay, right?”

Theon shook his head. “I’d never, ever drag her anywhere. But especially not near that man.”

She shrugged her shoulders and swatted Jon in the shoulder. “You heard him, right?”

Jon took forever, but he grudgingly nodded. “Yeah, I heard him.”

“Okay then. You have a good one, Theon.”

“You too,” he said, his voice sounding hollow. Jon nodded curtly in his direction before Ygritte steered him away.

Snow had every right to be suspicious, Theon thought miserably to himself. Not that he would ever involve Sansa in anything willingly, but he _had_ done something to him. Not that Jon knew that or anything, but if Jon was anything, he was a good judge of character. That’s the same quality that made him a good cop. He could smell a lie from miles away. Whether or not he did anything about it wasn’t up for discussion, but Jon had always been something of an annoying goody-two-shoes about everything. Even growing up. True, he had graduated from admitting to sneaking cookies from the Stark’s kitchen to a very decorated officer in the Night’s Watch Police Department, but he had integrity. Theon couldn’t help but respect him for that.

He watched as they walked away, with Jon looking back at him only once before he and Ygritte turned a corner and moved out of sight. He finished choosing the pieces he needed and walked up to the storefront to make his purchase.

He pulled his truck around afterward to help the employees load the lumber into the back, thanked them, and drove away, Jon’s words echoing in his head as much as Ramsay’s taunts were. Side by side, they became indistinguishable from one another.

Theon felt sick because he knew Ramsay wouldn’t stop at this. He’d find a way to tell him what he needed to tell him. It was only a matter of time before the shit hit the fan there. And honestly, beyond actively sharing the information he’d slipped him all those years ago and attaching his name to the leak, he wasn’t certain what else Ramsay could be doing. And that scared him.

This felt like an ambush. It felt like Ramsay knew something Theon didn’t, and that was a terrible place to be when it came to a Bolton.

That fear settled like a stone atop a pile in the base of his gut. It was becoming harder and harder to ignore, and Theon could feel the tension from it all settling in his shoulders. Hard knots that had all been smoothed out over the weekend corded themselves together in his upper back and down his arms while he carried all the lumber to the backyard, stacking it on the back porch and stepping up through the back door to get his sawhorses and set them up in the backyard as well.

He had a rather nice hand saw that he’d use for all this. No sense in setting up one of the bigger power saws and disturbing the neighbors on a Monday afternoon. Plus, he’d misplaced his ear covers, and the repetitive nature of the labour might ease his troubled thoughts again.

After measuring twice for the first piece of lumber, he made his marks and cut it into the pieces he’d need for the bed frame.

Just a rather large rectangle with slats running horizontally across the narrower side of the frame.

The bigger boards only needed one cut each while the smaller ones required more cuts.

The headboard itself was going to be several smaller slats all nailed together, sort of like shiplap, but sturdier and handmade himself because he didn’t feel like purchasing the pieces pre-fabricated.

He was right about one thing, the labour _was_ soothing.

Very monotonous and calming.

He soon had all of the pieces cut and could begin to sand the lot of them.

Theon owned an electric sander but opted instead for hand sanding the pieces. At least the pieces for the frame that didn’t need to look as worn as the headboard.

His stomach growled sometime in the middle of this task, so he pulled out the sandwich he’d made that morning at Sansa’s and ate it in silence while the cool air swirled in the backyard. It was chilly, but if he kept moving, he barely noticed. It was better than it being too warm at any rate.

Once he’d finished the sandwich, he went back to sanding the pieces, which was how Sansa found him a bit after three when she’d finished with her classes.

“There you are,” she said, sighing in relief when she opened the back door and found him there. He felt the knots in his shoulders immediately release when she plopped herself down beside him.

She leaned over, pressing her lips to his cheek, slipping an arm around his waist and squeezing.

He turned to capture her lips, holding them for a bit longer than was probably necessary, but he’d missed her.

“Missed you,” he whispered.

“Gods, I missed you too,” she said with a smirk. “You know Jeyne asked me right away if I was seeing someone. It must be written all over my face or something. Marg is going to know straight away. She’s got a sixth sense for that sort of thing.”

He had to smirk while he continued to sand the wood pieces in his hands. He sort of liked having that effect on her. “What’d she notice?”

“She said I look brighter.”

That was the second time someone had said something of that nature about Sansa, and Theon couldn’t help but preen just a bit because _he’d_ done that.

“You look the same to me,” he said, grinning.

“That’s because you’re with me all the time, doofus.” She put her hand in his hair and tousled it. “You wouldn’t notice.”

“Nah, I suppose I wouldn’t. How was class?”

She sighed heavily. “Oh wouldn’t you fucking know it, I got that same bloody professor I had last semester?”

“Which one?” he asked.

“The one I had for Design Systems 3010? I have her for 4020 as well. Professor Tarth? She’s a bloody nightmare.”

“What sort of bloody nightmare?” he asked.

“She’s difficult. And before you even say it, not in the way that she challenges me or makes me think a new way or whatever. She’s teaching bloody Acolyte for fuck’s sake. It’s not rocket science! I won’t have to think on my feet like this once I’ve found my job!”

“Aren’t you going to be designing things?” he asked slowly. “Not to come off like I’m on her side or anything… I’m on your side always, Sans…” he leaned over to kiss her. “But graphic design is thinking on your feet, yes? There’s no formula?”

She sighed. “I mean, you’re right. But she’s being altogether too ornery.”

“How’d you do in her class last semester?”

“I mean…” she hesitated. “I got an A…”

He snorted.

“No, stop it! It was a difficult A.”

“You had to work for it, you mean?”

She shrugged. “Yes?”

“Poor darling. Having to work for your good grades.”

“What happened to you always being on my side, huh?”

“I can be on your side and poke fun at you. That’s the best place to do it, after all.”

She laughed and stared out into the backyard where he had the two sawhorses and a pile of sawdust. “What’s all this then? What are you making?”

“Bed frame,” he replied, tossing the sandpaper in his hand and grabbing one of rougher grit.

“A bed frame?” she repeated as if he’d told her he intended to turn the entire house into an Altar to the Seven or something. “What d’you need a bed for?”

He snickered. “I feel like there’s a joke in there somewhere…”

“No seriously, what do you need it for?”

“For sleeping,” he deadpanned.

“Theon. I mean, aren’t you almost finished in there?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Still, lots to do. Another few months at least, so I figured I”d make a bed.”

“For?”

“Me,” he replied. “And you, when you stay over.”

She smiled at the confession. “Not that I’m not swooning that you’re building a bed so I’ll stay here with you, but seriously… what else could possibly need work? The place looks great.”

“I gotta knock out the ceiling in the master bedroom,” he began.

“Okay, check. That’s like a week? Tops? Maybe ten days?”

“New fixtures in the bathroom, new tiles, new linoleum, the wainscoting in the living room needs replacing. Also, I’d like to put some walls upstairs and turn it into a more-than-one bedroom house.”

“How many bedrooms?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Well, with an extra two upstairs, three.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“And a den.”

“Okaaaaaay…” she said, dragging the word out longer than was strictly necessary.

He set down the plank he was sanding and stood up, wiping his hands on his lap. “Come on.”

“What?”

“I’m showing you.”

“Showing me what?”

“All the work that still needs doing.”

Santa laughed and he held out his hand for hers. She laced their fingers and he pulled her into the house.

“New linoleum out here, this stuff is dingy and greying.”

“If you say so,” she replied, squeezing his hand while they continued on through the left doorway into the living room.

“There,” he said, reaching out and smacking the wainscoting that adorned every wall in the living room. “This room’s oblong and if I remove the wainscoting towards the front of the room and perhaps put down carpet or a rug or some such, I could make a nice dining area and leave the kitchen open for other endeavors.”

“What sort of kitchen endeavors?” she asked, laughing.

“Breakfast nook,” he replied. “There’s already the beginnings of one in the far corner. And perhaps a pantry?”

“I think this looks fine, Theon. What you’re talking about sounds like simple aesthetics. It’s not your job to give a house character, is it?”

Rolling his eyes, he shrugged before speaking. “I don’t have to, but I can. What do you have against new wainscoting? It needs replacing at the very least.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Does it, though?”

He arched a brow. “ _That’s_ why you’re not a contractor.”

“I know my way around _tools_ , though…” she teased, leaning into his body and dragging her fingers up his forearm, the double meaning very clear.

“You certainly do… but c’mere and let me show you want I want to do to the bathroom.” The fact that she’d been attempting to seduce him wasn’t lost, and there was no one more surprised than him that he would rather continue on his endeavor to convince her that the house needed more work than shag her senseless on the floor, but here he was.

“The bathroom?” she laughed, allowing him to pull her over to the room in question. He opened the door and tugged on the string. “What’re you planning for in here?”

“New tiles, like I said. New fixtures… new tub, shower, sink…” he trailed off, looking up. “Lighting”

“Okay, the lighting, I’ll give you,” she replied. “But what about the HVAC? What happened to, ‘the place needs heating and it’s ready to go’?”

He shrugged. “I changed my mind.”

It was her turn to arch a brow.

“What? Am I not allowed to do that?” he asked.

“No, you’re allowed,” she giggled, wrapping an arm around his waist and tugging him close to her front. “You’re allowed, Theon.”

“Thank you for the permission, _Princess,_ ” he countered, kissing the tip of her nose and reveling in the blush that slowly tinged her cheeks.

“Princess?” she repeated, laughing.

“Aren’t you?” he asked. “Your father is practically royalty up here, and you’re used to getting your way…”

She smirked. “Let me guess, you’re here to cure me of that flaw?”

“Quite the contrary,” he replied. “I’m here to spoil you and make it worse. Nothing wrong with knowing what you want.”

“I know I want _you_ ,” she said, her voice low when she leaned over to kiss his lips.

“You’ve got me,” he replied, his voice scratchy as he stared into her blue eyes. “For as long as you continue to want me.”

“I suppose I could keep you around,” her tone was teasing and light, but it poked at something raw and painful deep inside. “I need someone to push the cart at the grocery store today.”

He swallowed thickly, pushing down that painful, raw feeling before grinning. “Fine, fine, fine. Hint taken. I’ll go bring in all that lumber and clean up in the backyard. Then it’s off to buy groceries and do domestic things.”

“Don’t say it like it’s such a chore,” she quipped. “I’m not twisting your arm, am I?”

“Not at all,” he replied truthfully, stepping out of her embrace and making his way to the back door while she followed. “I’ve actually been looking forward to it all day.”

Maybe not _that_ specifically, but it was _generally_ the truth.

“All day, huh? That’s all you were thinking about?”

“Well… I thought about shagging you too,” he confessed, grabbing the hand saw and bringing it up the steps to lay on the porch. “But I figure that can wait until we get back to yours.” He hopped back down the steps and scooped up the wood pieces that he had tossed into the grass. “Bed’s not finished here.”

She swatted him. “Fine. Build a bed. It’s something most adults have anyway.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's turn! And there's more Ramsay in this chapter, I'm sorry!
> 
> Next update will be May 18!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks, as always, to my wonderful beta, treaddelicately. Who helped me enormously with this chapter. 
> 
> Any mistakes left are due to my own hubris.

**SANSA**

* * *

Sansa was surprised that she was only about twenty minutes late to work that day. She hadn’t really been to see her doctor in more than a year, so her appointment that day had been one test after another. Plus blood work. Plus a pelvic exam. Plus a questionnaire.

But she’d left with a prescription for birth control, which she’d just dropped off at the pharmacy before heading to Tyrell’s.

Margaery definitely wasn’t expecting her for another half hour at least, so when she saw Sansa stroll through the door, she was understandably confused. “Did your appointment get canceled?”

Sansa shook her head. “No, I had it. Had every test done under the moon and went to the pharmacy, so I’m not entirely sure how I got here so soon.”

“Everything okay?” Marg’s eyebrows were raised, watching her cautiously as she came around to check herself into the register.

“What? Oh yeah, everything’s fine,” Sansa said with a laugh. “It was just a check-up. I needed to get a prescription filled.” She gave her a knowing look, glancing around the shop and seeing two girls standing near the small houseplants, so she just mouthed the next two words. “Birth control.”

Marg looked relieved. “Oh thank fuck, I thought you were already… you know… preggers.”

“Shush,” she hissed, glancing at the girls pointedly and then back to Marg.

“Oh, Myranda and Violet don’t care, do they?” Marg called to them. “You lot don’t mind if we talk about doctor-stuff, right? We’re all women here.”

One of the girls grabbed the arm of the other and practically dragged her out into the greenhouse. The one being dragged glared back at Sansa as she went.

“Myranda’s got sticky fingers,” Marg informed Sansa, reaching for the laptop and opening it to the security camera feed for the greenhouse. “I like to keep her on her toes. Keeps her from thinking she can just grab things.”

“What’s she stealing in a greenhouse?” Sansa asked, peering at the screen herself.

“Look, some of these cultivars are pretty valuable in some circles. They fetch a bigger price down in King’s Landing… they haven’t taken anything today, though… it’s weird.” She and Sansa watched as the two girls appeared to argue for a bit and then leave through a back door.

“Definitely strange,” Sansa mused, frowning at the screen.

“So where were we? Marg asked. “You aren’t up the duff, but sick of condoms already?” She leaned over the counter to waggle her eyebrows at Sansa.

“Gods yes,” she groaned.

Margaery laughed a little, her gaze still on the screen in front of her, even though Myranda and Violet had definitely left. “Yeah, I made that decision myself. Your brother’s insatiable.”

“Margaery!” Sansa felt her cheeks flush crimson as she looked around for something to do.

“What? I gave no details,” she argued. “I kept to your rules, Sans.”

“I’m pretty sure insatiable is on my list of words I don’t need to hear in a sentence pertaining to Robb. I don’t need to know about my brother’s libido.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, I guess I can understand that. I’ve no interest in Loras’s or Willis’s sexcapades either. Since we can’t talk about _my_ sex life, let’s talk about yours. How’s Theon?”

Sansa sighed heavily and Margaery poked her shoulder. “Spill it, I’ve heard things.”

“What things?”

“I asked first.”

Sansa sighed. “Fine, well, he seems… very healthy.”

Marg snickered. “That’s all I’m getting? All I know is there was a bird complaining--not really of course but for the sake of the story--that she could barely walk after spending a weekend with him. You’ve been with him for a few weeks now, and you’re obviously walking.”

“Obviously,” Sansa replied tersely, pressing her lips together and turning to go wipe off the display of Aglaonema. They looked like Marg had just done them, but she didn’t really want to stand there discussing Theon’s past right then. Or ever.

Marg whistled as she watched her. “Oh honey, You’ve got it bad.”

“I do not,” she hissed. “I simply don’t want to discuss his past or anyone in it.”

“Must be difficult to do that if you ever shag at his place.”

“Whose side are you on, Margaery?”

“Yours, love. Always yours. I just meant… his place was the former location of his liaisons, right?”

“It was. But on the floor. He doesn’t… we don’t… on his floor.” She wiped the leaves of one of the pink plants, keeping her eyes on the green variegation instead of anywhere else. Gods, it was a good thing she couldn’t keep these alive. If she had one at hers, she would never be able to look at it and think about anything else but her boyfriend shagging everyone but her on the floor.

“That’s fair…” Marg mused.

“We have mostly been staying at mine anyway… and we’ve done it all over my flat.”

But never on the floor at his. Was that because of any particular reason? She’d certainly attempted to seduce him over there but had so far only managed to blow him on the sofa. Not that it wasn’t enjoyable. Because it was. He made all these delightfully strangled sounds when she had her mouth on him and it was--

“He’s building a bed. For his place,” she blurted.

“He _is_?” There was a lilt to Margaery’s voice that said more than she actually _did_ , so of course, Sansa had to get more out of her.

“What did you mean by that?”

“Calm down, Sans. It’s just interesting is all. He never cared about that before you, did he?”

“I dunno. Maybe he’s just used to sleeping in a bed like a civilized individual.”

“Or he’s used to _you_ and wants to keep you there. If the past birds are a point of contention, then maybe that’s why he’s doing it, so you won’t feel self-conscious.”

_Too late, I already do._

“He’s doing it because he’s got lots of work left to do and he wanted to be able to bring me over,” she said with a tone of finality.

“Either way, that’s sweet,” Margaery said.

“Enough about me. How’s Robb?”

“He’s your brother,” Marg replied, smiling sweetly as a couple walked in through the front doors, marching up to the counter. The woman asked Margaery where her ‘pathos’ were located. Sansa had to assume she meant pothos. Either that or she was asking to see part of Margaery’s brain. The resulting transaction had put their conversation on pause, but as soon as the couple left with their ‘pathos’, Sansa picked right back up where she’d left off.

“You’ve seen him more than I have…”

Marg grinned. “You said you didn’t want this kind of knowledge about your brother.”

“Okay, just… censor it.”

“Okay, I’ll just say he sleeps over. More nights than not. And sometimes, I go to his if Jon’s working nights or staying over at Ygritte’s.”

“And he still has no idea about me and Theon?”

Marg shook her head. “Nah, he hasn’t a clue. He just thought you two were having a row and then Theon took the whole weekend to ‘make it up’ to you. In a non-sexual sense, of course. Because his little sister doesn’t have intercourse.”

“Oh gods,” Sansa rolled her eyes. “I guess he and I have similar ways of looking at it, huh?”

Margaery snorted. “He definitely didn’t want to hear what Theon and you were getting up to while you’d locked yourself up all weekend in your place.”

Sansa laughed. “Well, you certainly did.”

“I’m a slut for the details, Sansa. Even though you still haven’t let on about certain… endowments.”

“And I will not,” Sansa replied primly. Even though she was smirking just a bit. Just enough to let Marg know that whatever Theon’s endowments, they were very, _very_ satisfying.

“Is he meeting you here tonight?” she asked.

“No, actually. My dad’s coming to dinner tonight, so he’s going to start the meal for me… I have to make it for everyone.”

“Oh right, Robb told me about that…”

“You’re not coming, I take it?”

Margaery shook her head. “I haven’t officially met ‘the parents’ yet. I assume his mum would want to be there. I’ll just meet them both at the same time.”

“Meeting Dad might be a softer landing than meeting our mother. I’m sure he’ll love you. And I’m sure she won’t,” Sansa said with a laugh.

“No, mothers never do like me,” Margaery replied, rolling her eyes. “Doesn’t matter, because the sons certainly seem to.”

“Well, you’ll have me and Arya there. And we love you. Well, I do. Not sure if Arya loves anyone or anything besides Gendry’s biceps.”

Margaery cackled. “I honestly think I’m in love with Gendry’s biceps a little.”

“Same,” Sansa laughed. Not that Theon didn’t have lovely biceps, but…

Gendry’s biceps had a category all their own.

The rest of the shift went by in relative peace. They sold a few more potted plants and someone came in for a whole crate of impatiens. She got a text from Theon around closing time letting her know that he’d just arrived at the flat and was starting the chicken she had marinating in the fridge.

“You sure you don’t want to come, Marg? I’m making chicken. And primavera pasta?”

“As delicious as that sounds, Sans, I’m going to pass.”

“You know it’s not a real relationship until you tell the parents, _Marg_.”

Margaery laughed. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Listen, we’ve got about five minutes left here, do you wanna take out the trash and go on a bit early?”

“Like nothing else,” Sansa replied. She gathered up the various trash bags from the different places in the building, knotting each one and carrying them out to the dumpster out behind the store. She swung the bags up and into the dumpster, wiping her hands on her jeans before turning around and coming to a very sudden halt. Panic bloomed readily and she immediately stiffened.

“Hullo, Sansa,” Ramsay’s voice made her skin crawl and she felt her back tense up into knots instantaneously.

She swallowed thickly, trying to keep control of herself when all she wanted to do was try to duck around him and run for the shop.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice sounded far away.

“Just to chat. You know… I seem to have the most difficult time getting you alone, don’t I?” His smile was cold and somehow showed nearly all of his teeth.

She didn’t respond, so he continued.

“I got here when you normally start your shift and then imagine my surprise when you weren’t here? I sent Myranda and Violet in to let me know when you got here, and by the time you did, I had to wait until the end of your shift to come touch base.”

He wasn’t standing particularly close to her, but Sansa couldn’t help but think he was too close anyway.

“I need to go home,” she began. “Marg knows I’m out here.”

“Bloody hells, Sansa! What do you think I’m going to do to you?” His eyes flickered over towards the dumpster for a moment before he laughed in a loud, maniacal way. “I’m out here all alone, even, didn’t bring anyone with me. I just have to show you something. They’re for your eyes only. Yours and mine for now. Won’t take but a mo’.”

She inhaled deeply and exhaled again.

Her blood ran icy in her veins. Freezing cold that somehow drenched her in sweat at the same time.

“I’m not going to explain my sources,” Ramsay began. “But I came into quite an interesting set of photographs as of late.” Bile rose in her throat. _Fuck._ “I wanted to let you know I had them. In the spirit of full disclosure. But don’t worry, I’ve got them locked away at home. For safekeeping. It’d be a shame if they got into the wrong hands.”

He swiped through them. About four or five images. Bad quality from being taken years before on an old mobile. Sansa knew just the model of phone that had taken them.

She snapped her head up, eyes narrowing. “How did you get these?”

He swiped through them again. “This last one’s my favorite. The others are just a bit of a tease, aren’t they? I’m not one for being titillated.”

All at once, she was seventeen again. Her innermost secrets on display for disgusting people she hadn’t ever meant to be on exhibition for.

How did Ramsay have them? She’d been assured that every last one had been destroyed. But here they were. This wasn’t for his eyes. None of it was. She wanted to snatch every one of them and scrub them out of existence. If it would only erase the fact that Ramsay had seen them.

“Where did you get them?” she asked again, wanting to slap the stupid grin off his face.

“I have contacts _everywhere_. I’ll give you a hint. He’s an old friend of Joffrey Baratheon.”

She swallowed down the urge to vomit. “Delete them.”

He laughed at that. “No, I don’t think I will. I think you need to go to someone who’s more equipped to help you. Maybe your boyfriend? Theon will help surely.”

She narrowed her eyes. “He already knows about them. You’re not going to break us up or anything.”

He chuckled. “Oh, _this_ won’t, I’m sure.”

She wasn’t a huge fan of how he said that.

Sansa wasn’t sure what made her do it. A burst of courage, perhaps? Or maybe stupidity. But it definitely had to do with Ramsay mentioning Theon.

She reached out and smacked the mobile from his hand, it fell to the ground with a clatter and she kicked it beneath the dumpster, her gaze never faltering as Ramsay’s turned into one of pure rage.

His mouth fell open and promptly closed. He looked like a great angry fish with a hook in his mouth. Being pulled into the boat and flopping around, gasping in the air. Gaping maw and all. “You’ll be sorry you did that.”

“I doubt it, it was jolly good fun, Ramsay.”

His eyes narrowed and she fought to keep her features still. Neutral. Even though she felt like she could vomit at any second. He was definitely standing too close now. His cologne was choking her, probably seeping into the fibers of her blouse and staying there.

“Climb under that dumpster, slither on the ground, and get that back for me,” he seethed.

“No, I don’t think I will.”

When she saw his teeth this time, they were bared like a wild animal. His hand shot out, and she crossed her arms in front of her on instinct, bracing herself for a blow that never came. He didn’t even touch her. It was almost as if he was frozen.

“What’s going on out here?” Margaery asked. A warm flood of relief washed over Sansa as Ramsay stepped away from her. She dropped her arms back to her side, flexing her fists and setting her jaw even though she felt like she was shaking apart. She clamped down her teeth to keep them from chattering.

“Ramsay dropped his mobile,” Sansa said slowly, with an arch of her brow. She held his gaze and delighted when she saw chaos there instead of conniving.

He bit down hard on his lip and shook his head, shoulders shaking in humorless laughter. “I was just asking Sansa if she would go get it for me.” His eyes flashed dangerously. He was speaking to Margaery, but he never stopped glaring at her.

Sansa shook her head, gaining a bit more confidence. “I’m not the one who dropped it.”

He clenched both fists and released them, cracking his knuckles in a menacing way before glancing down to the ground. Likely realizing that he’d have to lie on his stomach and reach blindly under the dumpster to retrieve the mobile. Exposing his back. Not that Sansa would have stomped on him, but Margaery might have. There were also pruning shears within her reach.

So instead, he sneered. “I have the hard copies anyway. _Ta_.” He turned on his heel and stalked off.

Marg scurried over to stand beside her, reaching out to grab her hand. She squeezed as they watched Ramsay get into his car and leave.

“Be my lookout,” Marg said, dropping Sansa’s hand and dropping to the ground. Sansa instinctively reached up to rub up and down her arms, wishing like hell she could just go scrub her skin raw to rid it of anything Ramsay may have left behind.

She watched Marg feel around under the dumpster, scooting farther and farther back until she laughed out loud and pushed herself back out. She held Ramsay’s mobile up like a prize and quickly turned it over in her hands to inspect the back.

“Come on,” she called, running for the back door of the shop with Sansa in dazed pursuit.

She scrambled back to the office and reached into her desk drawer for a pocket knife, which she used to pry the back off the device. She slid out a chip in the back and dropped it on her desk. “SIM chip,” she said with a smirk.

Sansa frowned. “Okay? So now we can steal it for our own use?”

Margaery looked hard at her before continuing. “No? Now it can’t connect to the internet.”

“So?”

“So now he can’t remotely delete the contents.”

“But isn’t that all on the SIM card?” Sansa asked.

“No, it’s on the hard drive.”

“How the fuck do you know any of that?” Sansa asked, reaching for the mobile after Marg snapped the back cover back on.

“Look, I might have lost a couple of these in my time. Left them in bathrooms, or like… in my car while it was unlocked and then I got burgled and the only thing they could take was my mobile and attempt to steal my stereo system, but really they just fucked up the case because they tried to yank it out with a crowbar... Anyway, I know that if the SIM chip is still in the mobile, they can call the carrier and have it wiped. Usually, by the time they call, the mobile’s already been chopped up for parts or jailbroken and wiped, but I know that the one I lost in a bathroom wasn’t, and I was able to wipe it remotely through the SIM chip.”

“Great, so you made it where I can’t wipe it. It’s still locked and I’m pretty sure if we guess the password wrong it wipes it anyway.”

“Still, I bought you some time,” Marg replied. “You can talk it over with Theon.”

“He said he had hard copies anyway,” Sansa grumbled, taking the mobile from Marg and wrinkling her nose at it. How could a hard piece of plastic carry the scent of Ramsay’s godawful cologne on it?

“Hard copies of what?” Marg asked.

Sansa sighed. “Suffice it to say, I made some stupid ass decisions when I was younger and now Ramsay has proof of it.”

“Well… maybe there’s something on there you can use?” Marg asked. “Chin up, Sans. Theon’s not going to let you drown.”

“I know he won’t.”

Marg got up and walked around the desk with purpose, reaching for and pulling Sansa into a hug. “Just calm down and I’ll drive you back to your place, okay?”

“No, I should drive. I don’t want to leave my car here in the open.”

“Good call. I’ll follow you?”

“My crisis can’t get you to come to dinner with my dad?” Sansa teased.

“Not a chance, Stark. Nice try, though. I’ll follow you there and then head to mine, okay?”

“Okay,” Sansa replied.

They finished closing up the shop, taking extra care to check all the security measures before they finally left. Marg, true to her word, followed Sansa home and then turned off to head to her place.

Sansa sighed and got out of the car to hurry upstairs and fill Theon in before their guests started arriving. Of course, as she was hurrying to the stairs, she bumped into Arya, Robb, and Jon, who had apparently carpooled over together.

“Getting home late, Sans,” Robb said, wrapping an arm around her as they moved up the stairs.

“Had a hangup at the shop,” she lied. “Shoplifters.”

“Marg okay?” Robb asked, suddenly worried.

“Oh yeah, she’s fine,” she assured him.

“You call anyone?” Jon asked, also worried. Sansa had clearly chosen the wrong cover for what had actually happened.

“They knew they were being watched and left of their own accord,” she said smoothly. “Didn’t need to call anyone.”

“Still…” Jon replied. “You shouldn’t confront shoplifters on your own.”

“We didn’t confront them,” she repeated. “They just figured out they were being watched.”

“Okay…” Jon replied, not sounding at all convinced that she wasn’t still in immediate danger. Well, he wasn’t wrong. Maybe Jon knew things after all.

“Lay off her, she can handle herself,” Arya chimed in as they got to the front door. “And if she couldn’t, she’d call me, not either of you oafs.”

“Oy,” Robb exclaimed. “I am no oaf. Just worried about my girlfriend.”

“Who I notice isn’t here?” Arya jibed while Sansa unlocked the door and opened it.

“You know who else is missing?” Robb asked rhetorically. “Gendry? Or is he up your arse and you haven’t pulled him out yet?”

Arya replied with a sharp slug to his shoulder. Robb laughed, but still rubbed the spot after she walked past to collapse on the sofa.

“This place smells like Theon already,” Arya announced.

“What do you mean, ‘already’? He’s been here for weeks now,” Robb replied, collapsing into the armchair and making it creak.

“No, I just mean it’s different now. It smells like Sansa _and_ Theon.”

“Didn’t know you were an expert at smells, Arya,” Sansa mused cooly, even though her pulse was beating like mad. “I shared a room with you for years, and you’ve completely fooled me on that count.”

“Shut up, Prissy Britches,” Arya countered. “You have your share of smells too.”

Robb chuckled. “Sansa’s never smelled bad a day in her life. Ask Mum, she came out smelling like roses and she’ll kill anyone who says different.”

Sighing, Sansa left the living room to go find Theon. Some rattling in the kitchen led her to believe she’d find him there.

And she did. With a pair of oven gloves covering his hands and a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. Likely due to the heat the oven was putting off.

“Oh good. Can you take over? Because I have little to no idea what I’m doing.”

She laughed. “Hello to you too…”

“Hello, darling,” he crooned, voice dripping with saccharine. He pulled off the gloves and handed them to Sansa as he leaned in for a kiss. His lips lingered on hers. “Missed you.” Unlike his ‘darling’, the admission felt genuine.

Gods, she’d missed him too.

She was about to tell him what had happened when she felt a wet slimy finger pop in and out of her ear. She jumped away from him, screeching and clutching her head.

“Gotchu. Wet Willy,” Arya stated triumphantly.

“Oh good, the women are both here, that means I can just…” Theon grinned and leaned out to kiss Sansa on the cheek, ducking Arya’s arm before she clubbed him the same as she’d done Robb.

He was about to round the corner when Sansa stopped him.

“Wait. I need to… hold on…” she narrowed her eyes. “Did you see her sneaking up behind me?”

Theon smirked. “Naw. it was like she just appeared or something.”

“I’m quick like a cat, Sansa,” Arya agreed.

“No, but Theon, I need to talk to you just for a moment... I--”

She was drowned out by Robb practically screaming Theon’s name and dragging him out into the living room. Sansa pressed her lips together and sighed. She’d never been more annoyed with Robb in her life.

“Shit,” she grumbled under her breath.

“It turns into a madhouse when those two get together,” Arya mused, pulling out her mobile and hopping up on the bench by the breakfast bar.

“It turns into a madhouse because you lot come in acting like you’re nine-year-olds in adult human bodies, and you muck up everything just by being there…” She sighed and moved over to the stove, pulling it open and peering inside at the food. She slammed the door again and straightened in a huff.

“Whoa… are you okay?” Arya asked, placing her mobile face down on the countertop.

“I’m fine,” she sighed.

“You’re acting mental, Sans. Wait… are you... ?” She trailed off. “In a _family_ way?”

“Gods, no!” she exclaimed. “Why does everyone think that?”

“Because you’re acting like a broody mare and snapping at everyone.”

“How is that any different from how I normally treat you?”

“Wow, self-burn. Those are fucking rare, sis.”

“Just.. gods, stop talking to me, Arya.”

She went to the fridge and opened the door to get out the things to make the salad. She let the cool air blast her in the face for a long moment before she grabbed the lettuce and a few more vegetables, standing up and closing the door.

And nearly jumping out of her knickers because Arya was standing there, peering at her.

“Stop doing that, I’m going to get a bell for you.”

“Something happen at the shop? Something with those shoplifters? Are you hurt?”

Sansa’s mind immediately went to her wrists and forearms. He hadn’t even touched her and yet, they still ached as if he had.

“I’m fine,” she said, keeping her voice low. “I just need to talk to Theon.”

Arya’s eyes narrowed. “Something’s wrong.”

“No shit, Sherlock. I’m not telling you.”

“Fuck off Watson. And you really should.”

She thrust the salad ingredients into Arya’s arms and turned on her heel, determined to talk to Theon, even if she had to yank him back to her bedroom to do it. Stalking out to the living room, Sansa found herself just in time to see Robb yanking both Theon and Jon out of the door.

“Where are you going?” she asked, her arms dropping to her sides, fists clenching in frustration. “Can I please speak to Theon before you--”

“We’ll be back soon,” Robb assured her. “No one got wine, so we’re going to run down to get it. And I haven’t seen Theon in what feels like forever, so surely you won’t begrudge us ten minutes, Sans?”

Sighing, she nodded. “Fine. But Theon?”

Theon ducked his head back into the flat. “Yes?”

“I _need_ to talk to you when you get back.”

“If it’s urgent, I can come to talk now?” He had his hand on the knob while Robb was gathering his keys and wallet. He had such a lighthearted expression on his face, she couldn’t bear to wipe it off just yet.

“No, no. It can wait. I’ll talk to you when you get back, alright?”

“Alright, yeah, I’ll come to find you.” He smiled and she couldn’t help but return the expression.

And then the guys were gone and she was left with Arya and a pile of ingredients that were now dumped on the breakfast bar and not being made into a salad. Sighing, she went to start the water for the pasta and went ahead with the cream sauce as well since that could stand to sit and thicken a bit before she threw everything together. Her sister, for her part, at least piled the salad components in a pile to the left of her rather than chucking them on the floor.

“Well, well, well… looks like you’re going to have to talk to me instead of Theon.” Arya looked so smug that Sansa almost didn’t mind wiping that look from her face.

“It’s Ramsay.”

Arya’s phone clattered to the countertop. “Bolton?”

“Do you know another Ramsay?”

“I mean probably. It’s a very common name.”

“Yes, Ramsay Bolton.”

“What’d he do?”

She couldn’t really get into all of it, so she summarized. And heavily edited in the process.

“He has those pics I sent Joffrey.”

Arya’s face wrinkled in thought. “The ones you sent him senior year?”

“Yeah.”

“The ones that made you have to go homeschooled for the rest of that semester and made you have to quit the exchange program?”

“Yeah.”

“The ones he then distributed to his friends and then Mom’s lawyer threatened to send them all to jail for owning child porn since you were technically a minor?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she answered, clearly exasperated with Arya’s line of questioning.

“How the fuck did he get those?”

“Fuck if I know,” she sighed. “But he has them and he told me to ask Theon for help.”

Arya frowned in confusion. “Why Theon?”

“Because…” she sighed, bringing her hand up to cover her face for the next part. “Because he’s helped me once before concerning Ramsay.”

“When?”

“About six weeks ago. That morning you found us on the floor of his place? He helped me with Ramsay the night before.”

“Okay, so he helps his girlfriend, I fail to see why--”

“I wasn’t his girlfriend!” Sansa blurted. “Not then. I am now… but we’ve only been together for about… two weeks…”

“I fucking _knew_ you were faking it.”

Sansa rolled her eyes before nodding. “Yes. You did.” She dumped two boxes of dried pasta into the now boiling water before turning back to Arya.

“You lied to me? I’m your _sister_ , Sansa.”

“You lie to me all the fucking time.”

Arya laughed. “Yeah, I do.” After she’d finished having her laugh, she continued. “So he pretended to be your boyfriend that day because… why?”

“Because I’m a coward who would rather force someone into a fake relationship rather than admit I fucked up. _Again_.” Arya didn’t respond, which Sansa took as her cue to continue. “I gave Ramsay the key to my flat, and he was in here cutting cocaine on my coffee table.”

“On the one Mum gave you? The antique? The family heirloom?”

“Yes, got it in three,” she replied.

“Oh, you are so right! Dating Theon was the clear choice. Mum would have made you come home and live there until you were thirty.”

Sansa sighed in exasperation. “Anyway, Theon got him to leave.”

“How?”

“I’m still not… I’m not sure? He won’t tell me what he did.”

“Okay, we’ll table that for now… but I need to know what he did. For reasons.” Arya shrugged. “Okay, so he got him to leave and…”

“And changed my locks on the door and the windows, and put that film on the windows that keep it from shattering when someone breaks it? And he found the coke Ramsay had left here, and then I was too scared to sleep here so I went with him to his place.”

“And ended up spooning him on the floor…”

“You didn’t see that.”

“No, but you just told me as much,” Arya smirked.

“Fine, and that’s how you found us. I said we were dating and the rest…”

“The rest happened.”

“Yeah. But now he and I are actually together and Ramsay’s kind of…”

“Jealous. Insane. Vindictive.”

“Yes. You’re on a roll,” she deadpanned.

“So he’s blackmailing you with the pictures.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay so--”

“He was the one who came up to the shop tonight.”

Arya’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. “Oh you weren’t finished, I’ll let you…”

“He came up and showed me the pictures on his mobile and I…”

“And you…”

“I smacked it out of his hand.”

Arya pumped her fist in the air. “Way to go, Sansa!”

“And he made to grab me and probably would have ground my face into the pavement had Margaery not come out and stopped him…” She was shaking again, going over all of it was too much. Too soon. Why had she done such a stupid thing? He was insane, Arya had said it. He could have broken her in half in his rage. Why the fuck--

“Wait Margaery was there? Does she know? She does know. How could you tell her before me?”

“Arya, I--”

“HA, shut up, I don’t care. Keep going.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “I hate you.”

“You don’t either. Not allowed. Anyway, you were saying?”

“I smacked his mobile out of his hand and kicked it under the dumpster. He chickened out of getting it himself, and left it there.”

She pulled it out of her pocket to show Arya.

“Seven fucks, you got it! But he’s certain to have wiped it by now…”

“No, he didn’t. Marg pulled out the SIM chip so it can’t access the internet. He can’t wipe it remotely.”

“Fuckin’ A…” Arya reached out and took the mobile. Sansa was only too happy to hand it over. She had to finish up the sauce anyway. It needed the actual cream and a bit of salt to be finished.

“Of course, we don’t know his password and if we answer wrong too many times, it wipes it anyway.”

“Pfft,” Arya scoffed. “I’ll think about it. I’m pretty sure I can guess his password. He’s clever, he’s not intelligent. Fortunately, I am both.”

“Not to mention modest as hells,” Sansa teased.

“Modesty is for the unexceptional, Sansa. It’s not for us.” She turned his mobile over in her hands. “What do you need from me? Want me to kill him?”

“Ramsay?” Sansa asked, laughing a little.

“Yeah, I will totally kill that guy for you.”

As macabre as it was, Sansa knew that was the closest she’d ever get to feelings from Arya. “I know you would. And I appreciate it. I appreciate you.”

“But?”

“But what I really need is to talk to Theon. It’s what Ramsay told me to do, so something tells me maybe Theon knows what that means.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll get the other guys away from him when they get back. You take him back there and tell him what’s up.”

“In the meantime, help me with this salad,” Sansa instructed. She turned off the burners and went to drain the pasta.

“Why? I’m not going to eat it.”

“Arya…”

Her sister grudgingly helped by tearing the lettuce into pieces and tossing them into the spinner.

By the time the salad was finished, the guys were back.

Of course, things were never as simple as they planned. That was a running theme.

When she entered the room, she was surprised to see her father coming in behind Robb.

“Did you just get here?” she asked, smiling in greeting.

“He was at the liquor store too! Buying wine.”

Eyeing the bags both Jon and Theon were carting in, Sansa chuckled. “Buying _all_ the wine, Dad?”

“Your brother informed me that you didn’t have any. And you wouldn’t want what he and Jon can afford,” he laughed, pulling off his coat, which Robb snatched from his hand and carried to the hall closet.

“You’re definitely right about that,” Theon huffed, eyes locking on Sansa as he tilted his head questioningly towards the hallway. A flick of his eyes told her that he hadn’t forgotten that she needed to talk to him.

She held up one finger but tilted her head as well before turning to properly greet her father.

“Hey Dad,” she smiled when she saw him, maybe lingering a bit in the hug because he could still make her feel like she was the only thing in the entire world. So small and safe.

If she told him, he’d make all of this go away, wouldn’t he?

It felt like a very easy solution, but she knew there would be some kind of consequence for bringing him in right now. She’d do better to stick to what Ramsay had said and not divert because she’d already stolen his mobile. He was likely furious.

Dad squeezed her a little before letting go. “How are you, dearheart?”

She smiled up at him and leaned in to hug him again. “I’m okay.”

“Just okay?”

“Spectacular?” she tried again, laughing at the twinkle in his eye. “Sorry, had a bad day.”

Not a lie.

“School problems?” he asked.

“Nah, it was at work.”

“I thought you liked working with Margaery?”

“It wasn’t her, it was just a tough customer.” She pressed her lips together before smiling in what she hoped was a brave way. “Still not used to customer service.”

Ned gave her a warm smile and then Arya elbowed her out of the way. “Quit hogging Dad.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and stepped back, jumping a little when Theon slipped his arm around her waist, hauling her closer and dipping down to whisper in her ear. “You said you wanted to talk?”

“Yeah, I--”

“What’s beeping?” Robb asked.

“Oh shit, the chicken.”

Sansa dashed out to pull it from the oven to pull out the chicken and vegetables. By the time she returned, Theon was helping Robb set the table.

“Do you need any help, Sansa?” Ned asked, gesturing to the kitchen.

Before she could respond, she heard Theon’s phone chime. Considering that nearly all the people who texted him were here in this room, she had a pretty fair guess as to who the sender was.

It wasn’t Yara, because she hated texting. And calling. Or communicating in any way that wasn’t showing up in the middle of the night unannounced. So that left one other person.

And it made her stomach twist up in knots.

Theon frowned when he looked at his mobile and then scanned the room to find Sansa. He pointed to the mobile and then held up one finger in the air. He’d just be a moment. Then he turned and took it out of the dining room.

She heard the front door open and close and she knew that she’d run out of time to tell him what had happened. While she was fairly certain Theon wouldn’t be upset with her, she knew that she’d have rather told him than Ramsay.

Now she could only wait until he came back.

“Um… yeah… Dad. I could use some help,” she said with what she hoped wasn’t a fake-looking smile. “Can you grab the salad and bring it out?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk if I've ever linked this before, but check me out on [tumblr](https://dresupi.tumblr.com/) if you Tumble, that is. ;)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a roller coaster, I just hope I wrote it out alright. <3 <3 <3
> 
> Enjoy! We're reaching a climax here! :D Only four more chapters to go!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my beta, treaddelicately, who has listened to me blathering on about this fic for so so long. She also helped me tremendously with this chapter and the one before it. I have nothing but gratitude. <3 <3 <3

**THEON**

* * *

As Theon stepped back into the flat, a paper bag with a couple of bottles of wine tucked under his arm, his eyes automatically sought out Sansa. He always seemed to gravitate towards her now. She was hugging her father. Lingering a bit before pulling back to speak with him.

She’d been acting strangely, hadn’t she? Theon mused to himself, wondering if she was upset about an exam or something. But he couldn’t really remember her talking about an exam, plus her class that she’d been worried about seemed to be going more smoothly than she’d thought it would. He could usually read her feelings, but for some reason, he felt there was a missing piece here.

_Oh, fuck, the doctor’s appointment._

He tried to will her to look, watching as she continued to talk to her father. She’d had an appointment and they hadn’t really been able to talk much for the entire day. He’d just assumed that she’d gotten busy at work, but what if it was something else?

Bad or untimely news? She said she _needed_ to talk to him as soon as possible.

Gods, what if she was pregnant?

Panic bloomed like weeds springing up through the cracks in a sidewalk, spreading through his body and shattering the fragile calm he’d been cultivating. Not that it was difficult to shatter at all. He carried his worry on his sleeve.

His heart raced as he desperately tried to remember the last time she’d been on her cycle. He wasn’t exactly as well-versed in these things as he should be, but he was pretty certain that they’d been careful enough, and that they weren’t in any danger of an unwanted pregnancy.

He’d always used a condom. But even those were only ninety-eight percent effective, weren’t they? In perfect conditions?

Fuck, he was never perfect when he was about to shag. He was honestly surprised anyone wanted to shag him _ever_. Let alone, Sansa.

Swallowing thickly, he tried to seek her out again.

But before he could get her attention, his mobile buzzed in his pocket. And as he pulled it out, an email banner floated down from the top of the screen. Normally, he’d have just put his mobile back into his pocket because he never got anything worthwhile sent to his email, but the subject line gave him pause.

_Attn: Something you should DEFINITELY SEE ;)_

The winking face was what bothered him. And so he set down the wine and turned around, heading back out on the patio to read it in peace.

Upon opening it, he recognized the email address as one of Ramsay’s. And there wasn’t any text in the body of the email, just a folder entitled ‘open me’.

Fearing the repercussions of both obeying and not obeying those two words, Theon went ahead and opened it. There were four photos.

Sansa.

In varying states of undress.

Well, from the top down.

The picture quality wasn’t as good as it could be, indicating that they were scans of digital pictures. Scans of digital pictures that were printed out and scanned again.

They were old as well, Sansa looked young enough to make him feel sick. He quickly closed down the file, almost dropping his mobile on the ground, but somehow he held onto it.

He’d never seen the photos in question, but he’d heard about them. Robb had attempted to drive down south to King’s Landing and kill Joffrey. Honestly, that was better than the little prick deserved.

Except, as far as he knew, all the copies were gone. How had Ramsay gotten ahold of them?

His mobile chimed again and he glanced down at the screen with mounting horror as a reply to the email appeared. This one was just text.

> _I’ve always considered myself to be a fair man. I wouldn’t fuck you over without giving you a chance to save yourself. I really hope, for your sake that you take it and never look back. But I wouldn’t mind completely burning your life from the top down either._
> 
> _You saw the pictures. Sansa saw them today as well. And after that little stunt she pulled with my mobile, I almost didn’t give you a choice. But honestly, Theon. I’m intrigued as to what you’ll do. If you’re the same person I know, and I think you are, you’ll take what I’m giving you._
> 
> _I have the documents you gave me about Ned. They’re from your old email address. Not that you have that email anymore, but your name is attached and I have screenshots of how you sent them. If I go public with them, make no mistake, I will drag you down with Ned Stark. Maybe not as publically. But privately, you’re finished. On the other hand, I also have these photos of Sansa. And I’m willing to make a trade._
> 
> _You reply to this with a ‘yes’ and I’ll release her photos instead. Your name won’t be attached to the scandal about Jon’s parentage, and you’ll get to keep your girl. Her father will continue to love you, and your best friend won’t hate you._
> 
> _Reply with a no, and I’ll go ahead as planned. I’ll forget Sansa’s little misstep because everyone makes mistakes when they’re so very young, don’t they?_
> 
> _I’ll give you some time to make a decision. Who knows, maybe Sansa could figure out something to do for me and I won’t have to release either? That’s the best-case scenario here. A win-win-win, if you will._
> 
> _Think it over. Talk it over with Sansa, and get back to me in twenty-four hours. Or, I’ll release it all and watch your world burn, Theon._
> 
> _Ta,_
> 
> _Ramsay_

Theon felt a lump rising in his throat and he quickly put his mobile to sleep, slipping it in his pocket and reaching for the handrail to keep from falling to the ground straight away. He took a few stabilizing breaths.

His knees still felt weak, but he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket and shakily lit one.

As he dragged on it, he watched the sparks and soot shake from the end of it down to the concrete walkway in front of him.

He had no choice here. No real one anyway. There was no way those photos of Sansa could see the light of day. Even if Ramsay was right and the alternative would destroy him.

Theon would never do that to Sansa. He’d never.

There wasn’t even any decision to be made, really. He’d already made it. He’d run out of time.

Gods, he really hoped she wasn’t pregnant. He’d fucking hate it when she decided she couldn’t stand him and still had _that_ enormous reminder of him. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

There was a huge lump in his throat that refused to soften, and as he dropped the cigarette to the ground, he stomped it out with his heel before reaching for the door and stepping back inside. Everyone was sitting around the table eating salad and Sansa’s eyes brightened when she saw him.

He looked down because he couldn’t stand to look _at_ her right now. Not after what he’d done and what she was going to find out. But first things first. He had to tell Ned. Because this was something that involved him. And Jon, technically.

But Ned first. Then Sansa. Then Jon.

Mostly because that was the order he could stand. Jon was going to tear him a new one and if he was already hollowed out, it wouldn’t be that bad.

“Mr. Stark? Ned?” Theon cleared his throat and Ned looked up, confused, but still in a fairly decent mood. For now.

“Yes, Theon?”

“Can I… talk to you in private?” he asked, jutting his head over his shoulder, and then waiting with the door open to allow him to leave first.

Ned rose and crossed the floor. “Of course. Everyone, start without us?”

Theon nodded. “Yeah, go ahead. We’ll be back soon.”

He caught Sansa’s eyes and gave her a weak smile before backing up and closing the door behind him. As he came out to stand with Ned on the balcony, he knew that it would be better if he could get this done quickly.

He took a deep breath before speaking. And then, it all came out in a jumble. “Mr. Stark, I’m really sorry… but I snuck into your office and took pictures of some documents that I shouldn't have. Documents that prove you’re Jon’s father and he’s your illegitimate son. And I took pictures of them and sent them to someone else. Ramsay Bolton. And now--”

“I’m sorry… you did what? When? When you came up for dinner with Sansa last?” Ned looked confused and Theon sighed heavily because of course, he was. He’d started right off blathering like an idiot.

“No, it was… years ago. Back when I was running with Ramsay and his people. I wanted them to like me, and he said he needed dirt on you, so I got it. I went through your things and I sent him pictures. I’d hoped he’d never use them, but now he’s blackmailing me because he has something of Sansa’s as well. And he said if I let him use the documents of yours, he’d forget about Sansa’s stuff. I wanted to figure out a way to get them both back, but I can’t… I can’t… let him hurt Sansa, ser. But I knew I had to tell you because I also couldn’t let him reveal your secrets without warning you first. I’m so sorry, I’ve mucked everything up and I… and I…”

Ned’s hand came out to clasp his shoulder, “First things first. You need to breathe.”

Theon tried, but every breath came out raspy and harsh. “I--”

“That’s a lot, Theon.”

“I know it is, and--”

“No, relax. Let me finish. That’s a lot to have been carrying with you all these years. Do you at least feel better that it’s out now?”

“No,” he whispered. “No, because I know that you--”

“You don’t know either. Because if you did know, you’d feel better.”

“I don’t,” he reiterated. “I don’t because you helped me. And I fucked you over. I have no excuse for accepting your help when I’d done what I’d done. I’m so sorry. I can’t begin to apologize to you… or Jon… or to Robb… or Sansa… fuck… I…” He couldn’t breathe. He brought both hands up to his face and inhaled, but that only released a sob that shook and ached through his whole body like he was sucking air over a sore tooth.

Ned’s hand squeezed his shoulder and he shifted to circle his arm around both of them, squeezing again.

“First things first, to assuage your guilt and worry that this is going to be my ruin. It’s not true. Jon’s not my son.”

Theon frowned, shaking his head as his hands dropped. “But I saw the documents. I took pictures of it.”

“What you saw was the adoption paperwork. I adopted Jon when his mother died. His mother was my sister, so it’s true what we’ve been presenting all these years. Jon’s my nephew. But I legally adopted him.”

“Then… why does Mrs. Stark hate him so much?”

Ned chuckled and shook his head. “Cat doesn’t hate him. She just… doesn’t like him. Jon looks like his mother--my sister. And Cat and Lyanna never got along. Cat’s also needlessly worried that I would forgo my own flesh and blood for him. Which I’ve never done. I’ve treated them all equally.”

Theon swallowed thickly. “Okay, but even if it’s not true, it doesn’t change matters that Ramsay’s going to use it against you.”

“Let him,” Ned said with a shrug. “If you can be heroic for Sansa, so can I.”

Theon shook his head. “I’m hardly a hero. I could have come out with this before and then…

“And then Ramsay would have no reason _not_ to leak those pictures he has of Sansa.” Ned set his jaw. “Pictures I was assured were destroyed. I will be having words with Robert and Joffrey.”

“I don’t even know how Ramsay ended up with them,” Theon said slowly.

“I’ll never know how that little snot ends up with half of what he has, but I know we need to act fast and keep him from sharing those. Not that I would ever think less of Sansa, but it’d kill her to have that time dredged up again.”

“I know it would,” Theon whispered, a lump rising in his throat. “She already knows Ramsay has the pictures, I think. He said he saw her today. I assume he went to Tyrell’s to see her.”

“You don’t know?” Ned asked.

“No, I got this email from Ramsay and then came to you straight away.”

Ned squeezed Theon’s shoulder. “You should talk to her.”

“I know,” his voice cracked because he was fairly certain this was the end.

“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised, Theon.”

“I don’t dare hope to be,” he replied.

“She cares about you. I doubt this would make her stop.”

Theon didn’t answer, instead, he turned to go back inside. “You’ll excuse us from dinner for a few minutes? Or as long as it takes?”

“Of course. Go get her and talk to her. Come clean. _Completely_ , mind.”

“I intend to,” he said.

He must have looked a fright when he came in because Robb made some wisecrack about Ned giving him the pound of flesh talk, and Theon could only smile weakly as he met Sansa’s gaze and tilted his head back to the bedroom.

“Now?” she mouthed.

He nodded slightly, and she stood.

She looked relieved the minute they were alone, throwing her arms around him as soon as the door swung closed.

“Gods, he was waiting outside Tyrell’s for me, Theon…” She rested her head on his shoulder and he supported all her weight as she embraced him. “And he has those photos. Those wretched things that I took for Joffrey and then he… and now Ramsay... then I… Gods, what if he had… if Margaery hadn’t…”

“What happened?” he asked, leaning back to rest his forehead against hers. His hands smoothed down her arms to clasp hers. He rubbed soothing patterns over the backs of her hands, anything to delay the inevitable.

“I smacked his mobile out of his hand. And he started to grab me…”

“You’re not hurt, are you?” Theon asked, bringing her hands up so he could see both arms to inspect them. If that little worm had hurt her…

“I’m fine, Theon. Fine. Marg intervened. Actually I--”

He couldn’t stand not telling her any longer. She wasn’t hurt, he had to tell her everything. “He gave me an ultimatum, love.”

“A what? What kind of ultimatum?” she asked. Her eyes were so blue it almost hurt to look at them. She was frowning. Worried.

“Either he releases your pictures, or….” he took a deep breath because it was like ripping off a painful plaster.

“Or?”

“Or he releases information I leaked to him years ago about your father.”

The silence following his admission was deafening. He could almost hear the muscles working in her face as she frowned. “What information?” she asked.

“That Jon’s his illegitimate son…”

She laughed. “He’s not. He’s our Aunt Lyanna’s boy.”

“I know that now, but I didn’t at the time. I just… stole the information and sent it to Ramsay so he’d like me and let me into his inner circle. It was selfish and stupid of me. I wanted to hurt the one man who was the only father I ever knew, and I know this had the potential to hurt you and Robb and everyone, and I just… I fucking did it anyway and I’m so sorry, Sansa. I’m so sorry. I was so stupid and--”

Her hand appeared on his cheek, her thumb wiping away a tear that he didn’t know was there. She applied pressure to his jaw, tilting his head so she could see his eyes. “Look at me, Theon.”

“Sansa, I’m sorry. I apologized to your father and I know I owe an apology to Jon and to Robb and to--”

“Theon…”

He sniffed loudly and pressed his hand to hers on his jaw. “I’m so sorry.”

“Theon… look at me.” She repeated. He already was, but he supposed she wanted something deeper. So he sought out her eyes, no matter how painful it was, he looked at her through the tears gathering in his own. “Do you remember when I told you I’d never judge you for your past?”

“Gods, Sansa, this isn’t like that, this is…”

“Something stupid you did when you were young? And high? Or coming down from being high? Something you’d never imagine doing now?”

“Of course I wouldn’t do it now. But you can’t possibly forgive me,” he said softly. “Not when--”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Theon Greyjoy.” She leaned up to kiss his cheek right where a tear fell. “I’ll forgive you if it pleases me. And it does.”

“I don’t deserve--”

“Shush, yes you do.” She kissed him for real, and he wrapped his arms around her and returned the kiss as if his life depended on it. And in that moment, it did.

He felt like he was drowning and she was air. His lungs burned as he drank her in, but the longer he did, the better he felt.

Her lips moved against his, and even though this kiss was almost too wet, what with his tears smearing against her cheeks and dripping down until he could taste them, it was good. The kiss was wet and salty and so _very_ good.

Her teeth scraped his bottom lip and he brought one hand up behind her head, fingers tangling in her hair and wishing like hells that there was no one else in the house right now because all he wanted to do was show her how much she meant to him. How much he…

Neither of them broke off the kiss. It was almost as if neither of them could bear to let the other go. But as things like breathing caught up with them, it sort of stopped. Everything stopped and his heart stopped hammering in his chest and his eyes didn’t burn anymore. There were no more tears as he pressed his forehead to hers again, breathing in deep as her scent swirled around him.

“Robb and Jon are going to be angry with me, though…” he mumbled.

She scoffed. “Jon’s always a stick in the mud. And Robb will come around. He loves you too.”

He raised his eyebrows, silently taking in the meaning of her words. “He loves me _too_?” he murmured softly. “Who else loves me?”

“You’re an idiot if you don’t know,” she countered.

If emotional whiplash was a thing, it was a good amount nicer than the physical version. It was like falling down a hill and landing on the fluffiest pillows. There was the force from stopping so suddenly it rattled his brain, but the resulting warmth kept him from feeling anything too unpleasant.

“Maybe I _am_ an idiot, but I need to be certain.” It almost hurt to smile, but he did it anyway.

“Theon…”

He loved the way his name sounded when she said it. Anytime she said it. “No, I should know who else loves me. Is it Jon? Has he been holding back his feelings all this time? Or perhaps Arya?” he mused, only to have Sansa pull him close once more for another kiss. A cheeky kiss where she bit his lip a bit too hard and he didn’t care.

“ _I_ love you,” she whispered.

He grinned. “I love Robb too.” She huffed loudly, swatting his shoulder playfully. She backed out of his arms, but he pulled her close again. “No, no, wait. Sorry, sorry. That’s not how this is going to go, Red.”

She stopped for a moment, her hand dropping from where it was to reach once again for his hand. “You haven’t called me that in a while…”

“I forgot,” he teased.

Narrowing her eyes, she shook her head. “You didn’t either.”

“No, I didn’t… I just was waiting for the right moment.” He leaned in and kissed her softly, wrapping one arm around her waist and letting the other one slide up her back. His fingers splayed over her spine as he held her close enough to feel his breath against her skin when he spoke. “I love you.”

She smiled then, a quivering little thing that came and went as she gazed at him. “You mean it?”

“Of course I mean it. I’d do anything for you, Sans. I always would have, but now it’s like… second nature. Because I love you.”

Loving her was second nature. He hadn’t really thought about it before. Hadn’t formed the words in reference to her, he simply _did_.

She tipped forward slightly to close the distance, kissing him firmly, but ending it altogether too soon, their lips popping in the silence. “We’ve still got this… problem with Ramsay.”

He grimaced in spite of himself. “I’m going to murder that little creep,” Theon muttered.

“No, don’t do that. I’m pretty sure us falling in love over his blackmail is enough to send him into a fit.”

“I didn’t fall in love over his blackmail,” he countered. “I fell in love because of how you look when you come.”

“Shut up,” she hissed, glancing towards the door like everyone could hear them or something.

That wasn’t exactly true. He didn’t really know when he realized he loved her. Just that when she said it, he felt relieved because he loved her too.

He grinned and her eyes softened, but she still took a step back and sat down on the bed. “No, but really Theon, what are we going to do?”

“Your father said to let him reveal the bad information,” he replied. “It’ll backfire.”

“Yeah? And then what’s to stop him from releasing those pictures when his big reveal doesn’t have the effect he wants? He said he’d forget about them. Not that he’d turn them over.”

Theon sighed heavily. “Fuck, you’re right. We need something else,” he pondered. He couldn’t think of anything Ramsay had ever inadvertently revealed over the years that could be useful.

“Well, I do have his mobile,” Sansa mused.

“His what?”

“His mobile,” she replied. “Remember? I said I knocked it out of his hand? Well, I kicked it under the dumpster behind Tyrell’s. That’s why he grabbed me. Because I kicked it so far back he couldn’t reach it.

“Sansa… you shouldn’t taunt the bear.”

“He’s not a bear,” she said with a scoff.

“Still, you shouldn’t taunt the weasel either.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I taunted him because he tried to grab me, and then Marg came out and he let go. And then he left his mobile there under the dumpster. Told me he had the hard copies and ran off because, like the pompous little shit he is, he came up to frighten me by himself.”

“But he’s surely wiped it by now.”

“You would think so, but Marg popped out the SIM chip the second he left. So he didn’t have time to do anything. The only problem is… it’s locked and we don’t know the passcode.”

“Who’s we?”

“Arya?” she said, raising her eyebrows quizzically. “I had to talk to someone earlier and she was the only one here. I told her everything. She knows everything now. Everything.”

He shrugged. “Honestly, if we’re having anyone else in the know, I’d rather it be Arya.”

She tilted her head, her brow knitting. “Theon… we probably have to come clean to everyone.”

“Not just yet we don’t,” he said. “Let’s take care of this first, okay?”

She nodded and he reached for her hand, pulling her up into his embrace. Gods, she fit so well right against him. Why hadn’t he tried this before? Before they started faking a relationship? Why hadn’t he realized? It was so obvious this was where he belonged. He’d spent so long trying to find a spot just for himself, and he’d caused all this shit when he’d fit here all along.

He sighed shakily, his hand moving up her back, fingers splayed.

“We probably should go on out there,” she began, but he shook his head.

“Let’s just stay here,” he murmured, thrilling a little when she squeezed him.

“We could… but we have guests.”

She was right. Of course, she was right.

“Guests who need to know what the fuck’s happening, I guess.”

“Not _everything_ ,” she reiterated his former statement. “But some things, yes.”

“I really wanted to eat,” he lamented. “But I can tell this is going to turn into a strategy meeting.”

“If it does, I’ll heat something up for you when everyone leaves.”

He pressed his forehead to hers briefly, wanting to bask here in her warmth instead of doing anything remotely responsible. “Thank you.”

“It’s no trouble really, it’s not as if I offered to cook something special for you or anything…”

“No, I mean… thank you for... “

_Loving me…_

“Thank you for… everything, Sansa…” The last two words came out heavy, carried out on his breath, and leaving those other two where they were. Because if he was being honest with himself, he was scared to use them too often. It was too new. Too wonderful. It almost hurt to remember, even though it had just happened. It wasn’t a terrible hurt, it was a good one.

One that could gut him and leave him exposed if he gave it that much power.

“You’re welcome,” she whispered, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. “And thank you for not jumping to any horrible conclusions today. I know I must have seemed very odd.” She laughed, even though Theon wasn’t even smiling.

“Want to know what I thought?” He could almost laugh now at how silly his worry had been.

“What?” she asked, draping both arms over his shoulders.

“Thought you were up the spout.”

She rolled her eyes and gave him an incredulous look. “Should I throw out this top? Because everyone has asked me that today. I must look as if I’m with child when I wear it”

He grinned and ran his hand over her belly, only serving to accentuate how flat it was. “No, it’s not the top. You visited the doctor today and you never told me how that went, so you can understand my worry, can’t you?”

Rolling her eyes she nodded. “I suppose. But no, quite the opposite. I got a prescription. So, next month we won’t need to worry about condoms anymore.” She shrugged.

“I suppose, either way, it means that doesn’t it?” he teased, leaning forward to nuzzle her nose.

“Theon…”

“Even if it was the other thing… I’d take care of you, Sansa Stark.”

Her annoyed expression melted into something a bit warmer. “I wouldn’t ask you to.”

“I would, all the same,” he replied. “I’ve grown rather fond of you, can’t imagine anything would change my mind now.”

“But we’re not ready for that,” she continued.

“ _Fuck_ , no,” he said with a laugh.

“We should probably go out and rejoin everyone…”

He wrinkled his nose. “Not ready for that either.”

“C’mon…” Sansa reached for his hand and dragged him towards the door. “It’s now or never. But if Robb or Jon even _think_ the words ‘little squidlings’, I will kick them so hard their grandchildren will walk funny.”

Theon chuckled, and that was the first sound that carried into the hall as they opened the door.

When they walked back into the dining room hand-in-hand, everyone stared wordlessly at them.

Sansa glanced around from face to face, frowning before exclaiming. “For Seven’s sake, I’m not pregnant!”

“I never said…” Jon said slowly, staring down at his half-eaten pasta.

“Nobody was thinking that,” Robb mumbled into his wine glass.

“I told them you weren’t,” Arya confessed. “I told them.”

“For what it’s worth, I also weighed in on the topic,” Ned said.

“He didn’t help. He said you lot were discussing something important,” Robb said. “Something important? What could be more important, than a little squi--”

“Robb, I beg of you, stop right there,” Theon warned.

“Considering what we were actually discussing. It’s worse,” Sansa said stiffly, sitting down in her chair as Theon pushed her in closer to the table and took a seat beside her.

“Worse?” Robb barked. “First off, _that_ wouldn’t be terrible news.”

“Yes it would,” Jon muttered. “She’s still in school.”

“College, Jon. Don’t say it like she’s still learning her maths,” Robb scoffed.

“Still, it’d be a wrench.”

“If you’re quite finished discussing the outcome of something that aspires to the hypothetical…” Sansa said loudly, shooting Jon a look that silenced him. Robb seemed immune while he was in the drink, however, taking to muttering under his breath.

“If it didn’t happen, doesn’t seem like you should care if we discuss--”

“Ramsay Bolton has those photos I sent to Joffrey when I was a transfer student in King’s Landing,” she said abruptly, causing Robb’s mouth to hang open and Jon’s face to somehow lose even more color.

There was a silence around the table that somehow was the loudest thing in the world. It took forever for someone to react.

And when he did, Robb upended his wine glass that was thankfully almost empty when he jumped up from the table. Theon immediately went to place both hands on Robb’s shoulders, to hold him back from barreling through the door and stumbling in the general direction of where he perceived Ramsay to be.

“I’ll kill that little mongrel,” Robb hissed, attempting to shrug Theon’s hands off his shoulders.

“That wouldn’t do anyone any good, Robb,” Sansa said, reaching for her glass to take a sip of her own wine.

“It’d do me good,” Robb growled, stumbling in the effort to rid himself of Theon’s hands. “Let me _go_ , Greyjoy!” He swung his arms around to dislodge his grasp. “You should be right behind me, mate! That’s your--”

“Stop,” Theon said, surprising himself at the authority that belted forth. Even Arya froze in place, with what he could only imagine was Ramsay’s mobile balanced under the table on her lap. “There’s more.”

Robb finally sat back down, allowing Theon to go back to his seat. Jon was watching him like a hawk, and he sincerely hoped Snow wouldn’t leap over the table to strangle the life out of him after he was finished talking.

Theon took a deep breath. “When I was younger… when I wanted to run with Ramsay… I made some terrible decisions…”

Robb looked like he wanted to say something, but to his surprise, Jon silenced him before turning back to Theon.

He felt Sansa’s hand inch into his under the table. She squeezed it encouragingly and he continued. “I snuck into Mr. Stark’s home office and went through his files. I found something that implied that Jon was his illegitimate son. Or so I thought… I took pictures and sent those to Ramsay in exchange for a place in his group.” He pressed his lips together. “Jump to today, he’s offered me an ultimatum. Reveal the information I gave him, or Sansa’s.”

The silence that followed was thick and oppressive before someone finally spoke. Surprisingly, it was Ned.

“Theon and I have already spoken on the topic. He knows the information he gave Ramsay is false, so we’re giving Ramsay the go-ahead to reveal the info.”

Robb spluttered. “Wait, what happened? You gave…” He frowned and cradled his head in his hands. Jon was strangely silent. “You… Theon, what the fuck were you thinking?”

His eyes burned, but he forced himself to look at Robb when he answered. “I wasn’t.”

“After everything we’ve done for you… after--”

“Robb,” Sansa said gently. “Robb?”

“I just…” He shook his head, refusing to look at either of them. “I need a moment.” He stood up and walked out to the kitchen, tripping over a couple of chair legs on the way.

Theon got so far as to tense his shoulders in preparation for standing to follow him, but Sansa kept him in place. “Let him go,” she murmured. “Give him time. He usually doesn’t need a lot.”

After he’d left, the strangest thing happened. Laughter. From Jon’s chair. Laughter so loud it shook his shoulders. “Fuck, that’s amazing,” he said, reaching up to wipe his eyes. “It’s untrue, but Ramsay doesn’t know that… Gods, he’s going to be pissed off when he realizes…”

“That’s the problem,” Sansa said. “He said he’d forget about the pictures, not hand them over. If his plan to annihilate Dad’s reputation falls through, what’s to stop him from releasing the photos anyway?”

“True, so what’s the plan?” Jon asked, sobering immediately and switching over into officer-mode.

“I got his mobile,” Sansa said softly, pointedly trying not to look at anyone. “Long story, I’ll tell it later…”

“You have Ramsay’s mobile?” Jon asked.

“Yeah, and I just guessed his password,” Arya piped up, holding the mobile up and wiggling it for emphasis. “It was actually kind of easy. It was b100d.”

Sansa frowned. “How did you guess that?”

“Blood in leet,” Arya said with a shrug. “As I said, he’s clever, not intelligent.”

“Okay, so the plan is to scour that mobile and find something we can use against him,” Sansa continued.

“I could call and see if Sam’s working tonight?” Jon offered. “He works in cyber crimes, so maybe he’d be able to just extract the data and--”

“Do not call anyone yet,” Ned said suddenly.

Theon had honestly forgotten he was there. What with Robb’s outburst and Arya’s revelation. Ned had just been sitting there, processing.

“What… Dad, I--” Jon began.

“I know it’s asking a lot, Jon. But just for now, let’s keep this quiet,” Ned said. “If we draw attention to Ramsay with the police, he’s liable to just post everything and bail. I would like to protect Sansa as much as I possibly can.”

“Dad…” Sansa began.

“I thought I’d nipped this when Joffrey first came into possession of the pictures. I failed you once, I won’t do it again,” Ned said sharply.

“You didn’t fail me,” Sansa murmured. “I never once thought that.”

“I did. I know I did. And I won’t be doing it again.”

“I hate to interrupt what is surely about to be a heartwarming father-daughter moment, but did I mention that I unlocked the mobile?” Arya asked, breaking up the moment, but bringing everyone where they needed to be.

Theon was about to respond when there was a rapid knock at the door. Followed by a brief pause and then another rapid knock.

Frowning, Sansa got up to answer it, only to have Jon cut in front of her, glancing back apologetically before he himself peered through the peephole. “It’s Marg?” he said slowly.

Sighing, Sansa pushed him out of the way and looked. “Oh shit, it _is_ Marg!”

Grappling with the doorknob, she finally wrenched it open to reveal Marg standing there with a sheepish look on her face, an overnight bag slung over her shoulder.

“Hey… can I come in?” she asked. “I know you’re all in the middle of a family dinner, but…”

“Of course, come in!” Sansa gushed, standing back out of the way and allowing her friend to enter.

Margaery let the overnight bag drop and suddenly turned to embrace Sansa. “I tried calling, but…”

“Oh, fuck, I left my mobile in the kitchen…”

“It’s fine, you’re fine, I just…” Margaery took a deep breath. “There were strange cars parked in my neighborhood. I got spooked and decided to come here. I live alone. I don’t know who they were, but…”

“No, you were right to come here,” Sansa continued. “Are you hungry? There’s food. And wine. And Robb! He’s throwing a fit in the kitchen.”

“So just a regular Friday night, then?” Margaery laughed nervously. Her statement got a titter out of everyone.

“I’ll go get him,” Theon started, but Sansa reached out and grabbed his arm, shaking her head slightly. ”I’ll go, you just… get Marg some wine and move her bag out of the way. I’ll be right back, okay?”

She reached out to squeeze his hand and he almost let her take it along when she walked away. He watched her leave until Margaery coughed, smirking a bit as he bent to pull her overnight bag out of the door so they could close it.

Of course, the blasted thing was heavier than he’d been expecting and he almost didn’t get it hoisted up the first time.

But he did and moved it into the hall closet with everyone’s coats. By the time he’d returned, Marg was sitting down in the chair Robb had vacated and was sipping at a glass of red, looking very much at home.

“Okay, so there are bank records on here. Like, _his_ bank statements are here obviously, but there are records in other files. And I can’t really figure out what they are from, so I can’t be too sure, but they kind of look like they could be his dad’s campaign fund.”

Intrigued, Theon pulled up a chair. “His campaign fund, you say?”

“Yeah, you know how Roose runs every election against Dad and never wins because everyone knows he’s a slimy asshole who’d probably flay someone alive if given half a chance?” Arya asked.

“Arya…” Ned frowned sternly. “Don’t be needlessly violent. Roose is a fine lawyer.”

“Flay someone _figuratively_ ,” Arya added with a roll of her eyes. “And come on, Dad. Fine laywer translates to jerk.”

“Most politicians are,” Ned replied. “He’s no worse than any of my other opponents.”

“He’s got Ramsay. Believe me, he’s worse.”

“Except Ramsay’s had that information for years and he’s been sitting on it,” Ned reminded her.

“He’s also had a shit relationship with his father,” Theon added. “He didn’t even use his last name until recently.”

“Yeah, until he was apparently given access to Roose’s campaign funds,” Arya said excitedly, flipping the mobile around. “That’s got to be what that is, right? Look at the size of it! I don’t even think Dad has this much for campaigning.”

It was quite a large sum. Theon reached out and took it from her, scanning through the document and going back to open Ramsay’s most recent bank statement.

“In all due fairness, an incumbent usually doesn't have to pay for a lot of campaigning,” Ned said. “The other candidates usually spend more.”

“And this year, he has the funds. And he’s got what he thinks is fuel to get Ned’s popularity tanked,” Theon said, his eye suddenly catching on an amount. A rather large and specific amount that was withdrawn. He went back to Ramsay’s bank app, finding the same number as a deposit there. “Do you think Roose is paying Ramsay from the campaign fund?” Theon asked, glancing up at Ned, who would be the most likely to know.

“No, surely not. That money’s strictly for campaign purposes. If you have informants, you’d have to pay them from your pocket. Otherwise, when your campaign fund gets reviewed, you’d have to explain where the money’s going. That’s actually a new law in effect for this election, and all the candidates are well aware of its repercussions,” Ned replied, standing up and crossing over to peer over Theon’s shoulder.

“The reason I ask,” he began, switching between the two windows. “Is that there are an awful lot of matching amounts leaving and showing up in this account and Ramsay’s, respectively.”

Ned took the mobile and looked for himself, placing it face down on the table when he was finished. “I suppose we’ll have to be sure that the other account is the campaign account.”

“So can I please call Sam and get him to run the account number? At least?” Jon asked.

“Ramsay’s surely got guys in the police department, though,” Margaery chimed in.

Everyone turned to look at her. She was swirling a last little bit of wine in her glass. She shrugged. “What? Doesn’t he?”

“Even if he did, Sam wouldn’t be one of them,” Jon said confidently.

Everyone looked at Theon, who merely sighed loudly. “I mean… it sounds like Ramsay. I don’t know. It’s becoming very clear to me that I knew very little of what he was up to when I was--”

“Well, it’s a good thing everyone here’s on the same page now, innit?”

Theon’s head snapped up towards the voice, spotting Robb standing in the door frame between the kitchen and the dining room. He smirked in Theon’s direction and sauntered into the room, followed by Sansa.

“Gods, finally,” Arya quipped. “The drama-queen of the north is back. And no, I don’t mean Sansa this time.”

Sansa swatted Arya’s head as she walked past her, making for a chair that was between Jon and Theon. Theon hooked his foot around the chair’s leg and dragged it closer, which earned him a smile as she sat down, her leg touching his while she leaned over on the table to pick up the mobile.

“What’d we miss? Since Robb’s dramatic statement really wasn’t the truth. You know, because I had to go in the kitchen and de-dramatize the situation, thus missing what was going on out here.”

“Oy,” Robb exclaimed, pulling a chair beside Marg. “First things first… unless someone else already did this?” He glanced around before continuing. “Marg, this is my dad, Ned Stark.”

Ned smiled and reached for her hand, which she gave with a smile. “Pleased to finally meet you, my dear.”

“Same to you,” she replied.

“That wasn’t awkward in the slightest,” Jon mumbled under his breath.

“Don’t you have something else to say?” Sansa tilted her head none too subtly in Theon’s direction and he suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at the ridiculousness of the situation. Robb didn’t owe him anything.

“Too right, I do,” Robb grinned over at Theon. “Mate…”

“That’s me,” Theon answered.

“Yeah, you are.”

“Shouldn’t you hug or something?” Arya asked, sounding very bored from her seat. “I feel like that was the most lackluster apology I’ve ever witnessed. And you know, I’ve been there for all of mine.”

“That’s just how we do things,” Robb replied. “Every row we’ve ever had. That’s how we settled it.”

“It’s true,” Jon assured them. “It’s really odd, but it’s true.”

“But they didn’t even say they were sorry,” Arya protested. “Every time Sansa and I fight, she always makes me say I’m sorry.”

“Well, I already said I was sorry,” Theon pointed out.

“And I have a standing apology for being dramatic,” Robb added.

“So rest assured, Arya. It’s all covered,” Jon finished.

“That’s a load of bollocks,” Arya swore. “Fine, I have a standing apology too. With everyone here.”

“No, you don’t either,” Sansa chimed in. “Not with me.”

“You are the absolute worst sister in the history of sisters.”

“False. I’m your only sister, and therefore, the _absolute_ best sister you have.”

“Also the worst.”

Sansa shrugged and went back to the mobile. “What did we miss?”

Theon draped his arm across the back of her chair and reached for it. “Something we need Jon’s friend Sam to help us with.”

“Oh gods, are you talking about that nest-crow who works in the dungeon?” Arya burst out.

Jon sighed, rolling his eyes. “Sam’s not a nest-crow. And it’s a basement.”

“Does he work at a desk?” Arya asked, smirking.

“Yes.”

“Does he ever leave the desk except to fill his coffee mug or to go home?”

“Arya, regardless, he can help us,” Jon insisted. “And you’re not on the force, so you can’t use that term.”

“I thought we weren’t going to involve outside help,” Sansa interjected.

“I didn’t know we’d even hacked into the mobile,” Robb said, looking around the table.

“ _I_ did it,” Arya said with a smirk.

“You guessed a password,” Sansa corrected.

“Whatever, we’re in, aren’t we?”

“Okay, back up,” Theon said sharply. “Start again, from the beginning. Sansa, you go first, tell everyone what happened at Tyrell’s today, Marg, jump in where necessary. Fill everyone in and we’ll come up with a plan. ‘Kay?”

“‘Kay,” Sansa nodded.

“Yes, _ser_ ,” Marg smirked.

Theon rolled his eyes. “Sans?”

“So Ramsay showed up at Tyrell’s today when I was taking out the garbage…”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GAHHHHHHH this chapter gave me so much trouble. Not because of content or anything (let's face it, it's a freaking sleepover, no matter what Robb says) , but because of the sheer number of characters. 
> 
> I wanted to do something fun with all the Starklings and Company, and this was entirely born from text messages between me and treaddelicately, and I knew I had to write it. Anyway, we get back to the nitty gritty in Chapter 12, but I wanted something soft because they deserve it. <3 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this chapter that really does nothing to further the plot and is just beta and author service. <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super special thanks to treaddelicately, who is the best beta I could ever ask for!
> 
> Gonna try to shoot for a June 1 Update for Chapter 12
> 
> We're getting there, you guys! Three more chapters!
> 
> Really just two and an epilogue, but AHHHHHH omg!

**SANSA**

* * *

“Look, I don’t feel comfortable with this…” Robb began, motioning vaguely around the room as soon as Ned had gone.

“With what?” Sansa asked, shoving a stack of dirty dishes into his hands. He turned and placed them on the counter directly behind him, which earned him a towel whip from Arya, who was currently the only one loading the dishwasher.

She was doing it badly, but Sansa was trying to unclench a bit and allow people to help her. Or at least let them think they were helping her, and then she’d fix it afterward.

“With you and Marg and Theon sleeping here.”

“Oh, I was going to let Marg and Sans have the bed and sleep out in the living room,” Theon offered.

“I wasn’t worried about _that_ ,” Robb sighed and rolled his eyes in a very beleaguered way.

“Besides, love. I think you should be more worried about Sansa stealing me away than Theon,” Margaery teased.

Ignoring her, Robb continued. “No, I don’t feel safe letting the three of you stay here when Ramsay is clearly trying to be threatening. You should come to stay at mine and Jon’s. He has a gun.”

Jon turned off the water where he was badly scrubbing a cooking pot by hand. “You think you might run this by ‘the gun’ before you volunteer him for bodyguard duty?”

“I dunno, are you saying you’re alright with them being unprotected with that psychopath out for blood?” Robb asked.

“He’s not out for blood,” Arya interjected. “He’s out for b100d.”

Robb pressed his lips together, simultaneously clenching his fist in the air and releasing it, clearly trying to think of something to say to his younger sister, but deciding against it.

“Theon’s there,” Jon said, gesturing towards Theon, who had draped his arm around Sansa’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Jon,” Theon said, a note of a smile in his tone even though Sansa couldn’t really see it.

“Don’t mention it, you can always count on me to know where you are,” Jon deadpanned before going back to Robb. “Plus, he’s pretty well fixed things around here. They’d be safe.”

“Do you want _me_ to come stay at yours, Robb?” Margaery asked, dragging her fingertips over his forearm briefly before plucking it from where it was folded and wrapping it around her. In turn, she embraced him and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Would that make you feel better, Pookie?”

Arya made a gagging sound over the sink.

“No,” he said quickly. “I mean yes, of course, it would, darling…” he leaned over to press a kiss to her lips, and Sansa had to smile at the display of affection. They really were adorable together. She wondered if she and Theon looked anywhere near as adorable. Gazing over at him seemed to catch his attention, though, because now he was looking at her and she couldn’t remember what she was supposed to be worrying about.

Robb continued. “I’d lose sleep though… about Sansa and Theon if they were here alone.”

Jon pursed his lips and nodded. “Yeah, okay. I could see that. I mean, I don’t have a problem with them coming over tonight. At least until Ramsay’s behind bars at any rate.”

“I mean if you want to, that is?” Robb faltered a bit. “Sorry, I should have asked, I guess… we’ve got that spare room and Theon’s mattress is still in there. It’s fine if you don’t want to since you’ve got a bed here and all, I just--”

Sansa glanced up at Theon, who was smirking a little waiting for Robb to leave an opening so he could speak. He caught her eye and she grinned, shrugging a bit because why not.

“Of course we’d love to, mate.”

“Okay, okay, okay…” Robb smiled and Marg ruffled his hair, mumbling something softly for only his ears, but it made him smile, so Sansa did too.

Arya squawked indignantly. “What am I, a joke to you?”

Robb frowned. “No, I just figured you’d be fine on your own? Or down at Gendry’s? I dunno where you spend your nights actually.”

Arya shrugged. “Just seems awfully mean of you to have a sleepover and not invite me.”

“It’s not a sleepover,” Robb argued.

“Ooo, a sleepover!” Marg squealed. “I haven’t been on one in ages. I can’t wait. I’m going to do everyone’s hair!”

Theon chuckled as his arm slipped down from Sansa’s shoulders to rest around her waist. His fingers tapped lightly, and she automatically leaned into him. Strange, that. She couldn’t remember ever having been trained to do that, but here she was all the same.

“It’s not a sleepover,” Robb insisted.

“A sleepover _could_ be fun?” Sansa began. “I mean… we’ve all kind of been stressed. Maybe a fun night is what we need.”

“It’s not a--” Robb was drowned out by Arya.

“So am I invited?” she asked, holding Sansa’s appetizer platter and bouncing on her toes enough to drag Sansa away from Theon to reach out and take it, returning it safely to the sink so Arya wouldn’t try to load it into the dishwasher again.

“Yes, I’ll invite you,” Jon said.

“Brilliant, I’m gonna text Gendry.”

“Gendry’s coming too?” Robb groaned. “Arya, come now.”

“I don’t think we’ve done sleepovers since we were twelve,” Theon mused aloud.

“We haven’t,” Jon agreed. “Not since that time that we all snuck out with a bottle of brandy that Catelyn keeps under the kitchen sink and got as far as the end of the driveway before we chickened out and ran back.”

Theon chuckled. “I remember that. You and I were taking swigs from that bottle and Robb was--”

“I was _not_ crying,” Robb said suddenly.

“Never said you were, mate,” Theon assured him, while utterly failing to hide his grin.

“I think he _was_ … just a bit,” Jon said.

“I was out of breath!” Robb argued.

“Spontaneous asthma isn’t a thing, Robbo,” Theon laughed.

“Is that what happened to Mum’s brandy?” Sansa gasped. “She was so sure Jon took it.”

“Not true, Robb did,” Jon said, snorting derisively. “But then Theon and I drank it, so half correct.”

Sansa stole a glance at Arya, who looked as if she’d like to either scream or burst into screaming fits of laughter, but she did neither in case there were more details. There weren’t, but it was very polite of her, Sansa thought.

“Fine, so are we going then?” Robb said, glancing between the lot of them. “Go get whatever you’re bringing and meet us there in an hour?”

“If we’re late, will you lock us out?” Theon asked, clearing joking.

“I might do, so get your arses over there as soon as possible,” Rob groused.

“I’ll finish up this pot if that’s alright,” Jon said, turning back to the sink.

Arya had finished badly loading the dishwasher, including the appetizer tray, and before Sansa could protest, she’d added the detergent and started the cycle. “I gotta run back to mine and grab some stuff. See you soon!”

She was out the door and Theon was dragging Sansa back to the bedroom before she could so much as take a step towards the dishwasher.

“You think I don’t know what you were obsessing over?” Theon chuckled in her ear. “She did a fine job, now let’s go find some pyjamas for you, shall we?”

“It wouldn’t take a moment for me to reorganize it,” she protested, turning back. “That appetizer tray doesn’t go in the dishwasher anyway.”

“Looks like it went in just fine to me,” he countered, blocking her way back to the kitchen. “Shall I resort to carrying you back here like a caveman, or can you let it go?”

She knew deep down that this wasn’t the hill she intended to die upon, but for some reason it still rubbed her the wrong way. “Theon…”

He stopped, searching her face and ducking down to eye level with her when he couldn’t find her gaze. “Hey, you alright? You can go back and fix it if you want, you just told me you were trying to let people help you, but if it’s going to bother you that much, I’ll help you reload it, you can show me how to do it the right way, and then I can worry about it too?”

“No,” she shook her head. “No, let’s… let’s go pack pyjamas.” She laced their fingers and he waited just a moment to make sure she was fine before resuming his leisurely pace back to the bedroom. Sansa allowed herself to be led, even going so far as to rifle through her drawers before it hit her like a huge weight. Not the dishes, not anything like that. Just… everything felt impossible. It was so much at once.

How could she be expected to look for pyjamas when she couldn’t stop seeing her own dead body in Ramsay’s eyes when he looked at her?

She gasped and stumbled, reaching out to grab the top of the bureau as her vision swam a bit.

“Whoa, I’ve got you, that’s it…” Theon helped her stumble back towards the bed and sit upon the end of the mattress. He knelt in front of her. “Talk to me, Sans. What’s going on in there?”

“How did he get those pictures, Theon?” Her eyes burned when the tears came. “Dad said he got them all, who gave them to Ramsay?”

“We can find that out if you’d like, love… I’m sure your father would.”

“Gods, I’m so stupid…” She inhaled and cupped her hands over her mouth. “I should never have taken those pictures.”

“Yeah? And I should never have taken mine either. Never should have even talked to Ramsay Bolton full stop. Hells, I should have tried to start my business right out of high school, and by now, I’d be a millionaire. Should have kissed you back in high school. Gotten your sights on me instead of that little blonde shit.” He smiled in that carefree way that he had and then reached up to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “See? It’s easy to have lofty expectations for oneself when the opportunity has already come and gone.”

“My sights were already on you. I just thought you didn’t like me.”

“Fine, steadied your sights then,” he corrected himself. Her brow knit and he leaned over to kiss the tip of her nose. “Don’t fret, love. You can take as many pictures of yourself as you choose, and you can give them to whomever you choose, but they cannot share them without your permission. If they do, _they’re_ at fault. Ramsay’s at fault here. And Joffrey. And whichever little skidmark who gave those to Ramsay.”

“It was probably someone who owed him or something…” she mused, sniffing. Theon got up for a moment, returning with the box of tissues she kept on her side table. She took one and dabbed at her eyes. At her nose. Wrinkled it up in her fist and imagined it was Ramsay’s little grape head and she could crush it into pulp or the world’s worst-ever compote.

“Or someone like me,” he said with a shrug. “Someone who just wanted to belong.”

Sansa sniffed. “D’you think if Dad put the heat on Mr. Baratheon, he’d do the same to Joff? Get the names? Maybe that’d help?”

Theon nodded. “I’d say that’s definitely possible. Now…” he pushed up to his feet and crossed the floor to her bureau, where he knelt again and pulled open her pyjama drawer. “Let’s find something for you to wear, shall we?”

She felt a smile pulling at her lips at the sight of him ever so carefully rifling through her clothing.

“My, I haven’t seen this before…” he said, arching an eyebrow in a way that was confusing because it implied he’d found risque lingerie or something. And Sansa didn’t really own anything like that.

He tugged out what turned out to be a nightshirt with a large sleepy cat on the front and Sansa collapsed back on the bed. “You’re horrible, Theon.”

“No, no… I’m not either,” he argued. “Do you want to wear this?”

Sighing, she shook her head and got to her feet. “Let me look…”

“No, no, I’ve got this, let me pick something,” he said, grinning as he began to rifle with more purpose. By the time he let her start looking, he had pulled out every old nightshirt she owned, even deigning to make a sexy growly sound at the one she’d gotten at a pop concert in ninth grade.

“You stupid ass…” she said, clicking her tongue and finding a pair of pink flannel pyjama bottoms and a tank top that matched them. “I need new pyjamas,” she said absently.

“No you don’t,” he replied. “Doesn’t matter what you buy, I’ll only take it off again…”

“Really? So you don’t want me to buy anything made of satin? Or silk? Or even lace?” She grinned in what she hoped was a salacious manner.

She watched his throat bob as he slowly folded her pyjama pants to stuff into the bag they were taking together. “Only if you wish it.”

Oh yeah, she definitely wished it.

“I’ll go get the toothbrushes,” she said, rising to her feet and thrilling a little as his gaze followed her out of the room.

She’d no sooner grabbed both toothbrushes and the toothpaste and turned than Theon’s arm found its way around her waist, spinning her in his arms and finding her lips with his.

He’d pushed the door closed behind him. Locking it too. He was so resourceful. Gods, she loved him.

His hand was roaming down her lower back and over her arse, squeezing before he flattened his palm and swatted her gently. Arousal swirled through her body, concentrating between her thighs as he hefted her up on his front and then onto the edge of the vanity. He reached behind him to tug on the neck of his shirt, casting it aside and dipping down to kiss her once more.

“This okay?” he murmured against her lips and she nodded before she gasped “Yes.” She whipped off her shirt in one clean movement, tossing it to the floor.

“I wanted some time alone with you after before--I won’t go anywhere until I can show you how I love you, Sansa…”

She reached for the buckle on his belt as he busied himself the clasp of her bra, which was thankfully in the front. It released seconds later and his hands squeezed and massaged her breasts, thumbs swirling over the tips until they were hard and pebbled beneath his touch.

“Theon,” she murmured, her head falling back as he rolled her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, lowering his head to the left one. He sucked softly, pulling it between his teeth before letting it go and moving to the other side.

The cool air of the room made her tits go even harder, the sensation felt like it was burning her, but in the best possible way

She reached down to unbutton her jeans, to ease down the zipper but had to stop again when he scraped his teeth against her nipple. “ _Gods_ ,” she murmured.

He released her with a soft pop and hooked his fingers under the waistband of her jeans. He pulled them down with her knickers, leaving them on the floor between them and stepping close once more, where he’d been before. The tile of the vanity was cool on her bum and the burning heat between her legs stood out in stark contrast. The fire was only stoked more by the knowledge that his jeans were rubbing her _there_ , and she simply had to get them off.

She finally got his belt undone and he batted her hand away to tug open the button and zip. He pushed his trousers down over his thighs, stopping to go back and push down his pants as well. He then started fumbling for his pocket belatedly, so Sansa grabbed at his belt loop, jamming her hand in the pocket. She pulled out the condom and handed it to him.

“Fuck, I’m sorry this isn’t better,” he rasped, tearing the gold foil and rolling the thing down over his cock.

“This is perfect.”

“Perfect, this?” he laughed, scooting forward to rub himself through her folds, she was what she would have described before as embarrassingly wet, but now it just seemed sort of helpful. “ _This_ is how you pictured making love for the first time?”

“I pictured making love _everywhere_ , Theon. Because that’s what love _is_. It’s this all-encompassing, can’t get enough, can’t get you soon enough, adoration mixed with desire and--”

“I adore _you_ ,” he murmured, rocking forward and filling her completely.

He moved one hand to her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger before he began thrusting. He lept one hand around her hip, the other one stuck between them, tugging on her nipple and making her feel desperate.

“Fuck,” she whined, reaching down to grip the edge of the vanity with one hand, snaking the other down to where they were joined, rolling her clit while he rocked into her. The sensations were sharp and harsh as she tipped ever closer to the edge, pleasure blooming from her sex and expanding out to her arms and legs.

He lowered his head closer to hers to murmur, “That’s it, come for me, Sansa…”

The release felt like falling. But without the fear. Like she was being tossed around the ocean but didn’t have to worry where her next breath was coming from. He’d give it to her, it was fine.

She could feel her walls clenching around him, and he groaned, his voice reverberating loudly as she felt herself pulse. The sensations ebbed and she could control her hands again She draped both over his shoulders and leaned back, allowing her hair to fall back while she looked up at the ceiling, sucking in lungfuls of air while his hands tightened around her hips.

“Fuck, I love you,” he groaned. “Love you so much…”

“Love you, Theon…” she murmured, hooking her legs around his waist as he thrust into her.

He fucked into her hard, the slap of flesh only slightly distracting because when he finished, he moaned louder than before. So loud that Sansa clapped her hand over his mouth, laughing because, for all she knew, they still had visitors here. Jon out still dutifully scrubbing that pot while Theon fucked her senseless.

“Fuck, sorry…” he murmured, kissing her palm until she dropped it again, and then leaning down to kiss her lips. She let her legs fall from his hips and he stepped away to dispose of the condom.

His arms were shaking a little, and he seemed as wobbly as she felt when she hoisted herself off the vanity.

She leaned up slightly to kiss him, loving the lazy way his lips brushed over hers before he went to lean his weight on the vanity again.

Sansa checked her reflection in the mirror, almost not recognizing herself with her flushed cheeks and _very_ pouty lips.

Theon looked rather debauched himself as he ran some water into his hands and splashed it up onto his face. “Fuck, that was good.”

She couldn’t do anything but grin as she knelt to sort out her clothing on the ground. When she stood, Theon was there, kissing her lips and making her forget what they were supposed to be doing.

“Mmm, as nice as that is, I need to find where I threw the toothbrushes.”

“Countertop,” he replied, plucking them from where she’d flung them hard, handing them over. She was pulling on her underwear, so she didn’t take them until she’d gotten herself decently dressed.

After she had, Theon himself started dressing. Once he had his trousers pulled up, Sansa opened the bathroom door and went back to her room to check the contents of the bag. She paused for a moment in the hallway and listened. She was met with silence so hopefully, that meant no one had been around to hear them.

Sansa continued into the room and knelt to unzip the bag. So far, it only contained her pyjamas and now their toothbrushes, so she went to the closet where Theon kept his clothes in a separate bag on the floor.

She’d wanted like mad to offer part of the closet or half her chest of drawers or something, but it hadn’t felt right.

Looking through the contents of Theon’s bag, she found a clean pair of pyjama pants and a t-shirt that looked mostly clean. If she was being completely honest, Theon usually didn’t wear much to sleep in as of late, so his pyjamas hadn’t gotten much use.

“I could have done that, Sans,” he said as he walked into the room. “You actually found something?”

“Yeah, flannel pants and a t-shirt that looks not _too_ stained, but now that I’m looking there’s definitely some faded blue paint on it.”

“Eh, it’s probably the cleanest I have over here without going over to the house and rifling through the closet there.”

“I was wondering where you kept the rest of your clothes,” she said with a smile. She wasn’t, but it felt like the right thing to say.

“Yeah, they’re in the closet over there. Master bedroom, though. I bet that could stand to be expanded a bit. A walk-in closet’s nice, innit?”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you ever stop thinking about that place and the work you’re going to do on it?”

“Yeah, I do, actually. But, I was just thinking… I should definitely put a vanity in.”

“Where? The bathroom?” she asked, giggling.

“Where else you gonna have one?” he asked, winking and grabbing the bag from her, stuffing his pyjamas inside and zipping it up. “And, after I install it, you can help me break it in.”

Her mouth dropped open and she started to muster up a very stilted response, but he beat her to the chase.

“C’mon. We have a sleepover to get to.”

“Robb will kill you if he hears you call it that.”

“That’s why he won’t hear me,” Theon teased, throwing the bag over his shoulder and standing aside to let her go out first. He hung back to grab their coats, holding out hers so she could shrug into it.

She felt a smile tugging at her lips for no reason other than he was there. With her. And they were together. Gods, she was turning into such a sap.

Her phone buzzed and she reached for it, panic blooming for a split second before she saw Arya’s name on the banner.

She opened the text, squinting down at the words. Not because she couldn’t see them, but because they didn’t really make sense.

AS: _Bring all your blankets and sheets to Robb’s._

Sansa sent a one-word response in reply. _Why?_

Three dots appeared and so she stopped walking, smirking a little when Theon ran into the back of her, his arm automatically wrapping around her waist to steady himself. He hooked his chin over her shoulder.

“Who’s that from?”

“Arya,” she replied, holding the phone over so he could see it.

“You didn’t have to show me,” he teased, all the while devouring the message. “Why does she need blankets? Did Robb forget to do laundry again?”

“No idea,” Sansa replied.

Arya’s text finally came through.

AS: _We’re making a blanket fort and Robb doesn’t have enough._

Sansa’s thumb hovered over the screen, all ready to tell her sister to fuck off because it was a waste to bring all her clean bedding over just to drape it over Robb’s furniture. Except for a small part of her really wanted to build a blanket fort. Because she hadn’t done it since she was a girl. And the thought of building one as an adult was super fun.

So she replied quickly. _“We were just about to walk out the door, we’ll grab them. See you in a few!”_

Arya sent back a winking emoji that was very out of character for her, but Sansa was above asking her why she’d sent it. She probably had ascertained that Sansa had just had sex or something and she didn’t really want to have that discussion with Theon draped over her shoulder.

“Blanket fort?” Theon said with a snicker. He turned slightly to press his lips to the side of her neck. “Want me to get the blankets?”

“There’s a bunch,” Sansa informed him.

“I _know_. I’ve been here for a bit,” he reminded her, handing off the duffel bag and turning around to head back to the linen closet.

He grabbed as many sheets and blankets as he could carry in one trip, because as he said it. “A blanket fort is fun, but you’re on a second story walk up and it’s not _that_ fun.”

Sansa grabbed another stack of her own and followed him to the door. She juggled the keys in her hands and got the door locked.

Her phone buzzed again, so she set the bag and the sheets down, waving Theon down ahead of her to read the text.

Again, it was Arya.

AS: _Can you grab that bottle of spiced rum you have in the freezer?_

How did she-- no. Nope. Sansa wasn’t going to go into this. Arya was a snoop. Of course she knew about her secret stash.

She simply texted back. _“Yes, fine. Anything else? We’re leaving.”_

AS: _Nope. Just hurry up and get here._

_“Stop sending me back for more things.”_

She unlocked the door once more and sprinted inside to grab the rum from the freezer. She zipped it into the bag and locked up once more.

By the time she’d gone down the stairs to Theon’s truck, her breath was coming out in heavy puffs that were visible in front of her. Normally, the temperature didn’t bother her, but it was that time of night where she was usually snuggled up all warm and groggy in front of the television, not hiking down to Theon’s truck with piles of blankets, an overnight bag and an icy bottle of spiced rum.

Theon reached over and opened the door for her. She hopped into the truck, sliding the duffel bag into the floorboard and balancing the sheets on her lap.

Theon arched an eyebrow in her direction but didn’t ask.

She loved him for that, but she really wanted to share.

“Arya knew about my freezer rum,” she said with a shrug.

“And you brought it?” Theon asked, smirking a bit.

“Well she was _just_ here. She’d know if I was lying. Plus, I can get more,” she said with a shrug.

Theon had the truck running, but the air coming through the vents was still icy cold as he backed out of the parking spot and turned the truck around to go out on the road.

Sansa’s teeth never chattered, but for some reason they were right then.

“Sorry bout the heat. Or lack thereof,” Theon said sheepishly. “I’ll warm you up once we get to Robb’s, though.”

“Pretty sure he’d have something to say about that,” she teased.

“I wasn’t talking about _that_ ,” Theon assured her.

“Really? I was,” she waggled her eyebrows and he chuckled.

“Insatiable, you are.”

She hummed and clutched the blankets to her front. “Seems that way.”

She stole a glance at him, only to see him smiling as he watched the road in front of them. It was dark in the truck, but when they passed under the street lamps, she could see a certain pinkness in his cheeks that was not due to the cold.

Not entirely, anyway.

“Good to know,” he finally said, a few beats too late to be breezy.

“I love you, Theon,” she replied, not taking her eyes off his face as he shifted in his seat.

“Love you too.”

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” she asked, earning a look from his side of the cab.

“Fuck no,” he replied. “I’m just not used to hearing it.”

“Well, I suggest you get used to it,” she countered.

“That’s entirely up to you, Red.”

She grinned and looked back out the front windshield, watching the white line on the road slip by unbreaking until he put on his turn signal and they turned down Robb’s street.

Arya’s car was already there. As was Marg’s. Robb’s and Jon’s were parked on the street, and that’s where Theon parked as well, turning to grab the stack of blankets while Sansa got the rest of them plus the bag.

He pushed the doorbell and they waited until Jon finally came to the door.

“Oh you’ve got your hands full,” he said, pointedly reaching out for the smaller stack of blankets that Sansa was holding and not helping Theon at all.

“Yeah, Arya told us to bring them. For the blanket fort.”

Robb sighed from his place on the sofa. “You are not building a blanket fort, Arya,” he called. “People have to walk through the living room. It’s going to create a problem.”

“I’m not building it down there, genius,” Arya called from what sounded like upstairs. “I’m building it up here.”

“No,” Robb called once more.

“Jon said I could.”

Jon, who shrugged when Robb rounded on him, and who pointedly didn’t bring it up again as he took the blankets upstairs.

“Jon!” Robb called. “Come on, man? A united front?”

“I live here too,” Jon replied. “I’d quite like a blanket fort.”

Robb, who looked very much the tired, overworked single mother at the moment, shook his head and let it fall back on the back of the sofa. “Fine. I just don’t want to see it.”

“Easily accomplished,” Arya called. “You’re not allowed inside.”

“Sansa!” Margaery called from the kitchen doorway, running forward and hugging Sansa as if they hadn’t seen each other just hours before. “You’re here! And you brought blankets! I’m so excited!”

“I also brought rum, “Sansa replied, pulling the bottle out of her bag and placing it on Robb’s kitchen table.

Theon had gone upstairs with the blankets already, so Marg tugged Sansa towards the stairs as well. Jon had come back and was now taking a seat at the bottom, pulling out his phone. He looked very much like he’d chosen his watch for the night. He turned and said something that she couldn’t quite hear because it was directed at Robb.

Robb didn’t seem to like it, given his squawk of indignation some seconds later.

Arya was spreading out sheets and blankets in the center of Robb’s bedroom. “Grab his desk chair for me please?”

“I have clothespins,” Margaery stated. “And do be careful around that ficus, I only just rescued it.”

Sansa turned to see the rather large specimen that had come in on their last order from Highgarden. A misplaced rubber tree that definitely hadn’t been ready for a long shipment from the south. Last she’d seen, it’d been a few twigs and dying leaves, but it seemed to have made a comeback. Not that she had any doubts about that, but the surprising part was its new home in front of Robb’s window.

She hadn’t been in Robb’s room in ages, but she was fairly certain all the hanging plants in his windows were new. And mostly, if not completely, taken care of by Marg.

Maybe things with them were a bit more serious than she’d originally thought.

They gathered the furniture from each of the rooms upstairs, even pulling out the folding card table from behind Jon’s door and opening it in the hallway to use as a central support.

It took less time than Sansa was expecting to complete the monolith out of blankets and all of her spare sheets.

Theon was the only man upstairs, but he proved to be very helpful with his ideas for structural support and using the corners of the sheets as doors between ‘rooms’ of the blanket fort. They’d gathered all the pillows from the beds as well as the ones that had been brought along to create a sort of lounging area on the floor of Robb’s room. They didn’t continue the forts into any of the bathrooms for obvious reasons, but soon, the entire fort spanned mostly the entire upstairs. Jon’s room, Robb’s room, the hallway, the spare bedroom with Theon’s furniture inside, and even the stairwell.

Upon completion, the four of them sort of melted into the floor with the pillows.

“Are you quite finished?” Robb called from downstairs. “It sounds like a stampede of elephants up there.”

“We could have elephants up here,” Arya called back down. “Too bad you’ll never know!”

Sansa could just hear Robb rolling his eyes before he countered. “Don’t wanna know. I’ll be down here making certain you’re all safe.”

“Isn’t that Jon’s responsibility?” Sansa called.

“Both of you shut up now. And stay out of my room!”

That only got Sansa and Arya giggling. Arya was currently sorting through a box she found beneath Robb’s bed. There wasn’t much in it, other than stacks of photographs, a few folded-up looseleaf papers, and Grey Wind, his favourite stuffed animal from childhood.

He was a ratty old wolf their mum had knit for him when he was a baby.

“Put that away, Arya…” Sansa hissed, kicking the box back under Robb’s bed and glancing over at Margaery. She didn’t know what was all in that box, but she didn’t want to cause any problems.

“I’ve already seen it all, Sans,” Margaery giggled, but she did replace the lid and carefully push it back under the bed. She kept Grey Wind out, though, tucking him under her arm and laying back on the pillows.

“Right well, if you’re not going to let me snoop, we might as well play truth or dare until Gendry gets here,” Arya said.

“I don’t want to play that,” Theon groaned. “I’ve told enough truths for one day.”

“Gendry’s coming?” Sansa asked, hoping to shift Arya’s focus.

“Of course. He’s my boyfriend, isn’t he?” Arya asked with a smirk. “All of you have got yours here. I can’t have mine?”

“You can have whatever you want, Arya. I just figured you weren’t ready to make it official,” Sansa said with a smirk.

“Oh come off it, Sansa. You and Theon did things out of order, let’s talk about that.”

“Out of order?” Theon asked, snorting derisively.

“Yes, out of order. What with your moving in before you’d even gotten together,” she scoffed.

“Hey, keep that hush-hush,” Sansa kicked Arya in the shin. “Everyone doesn’t know about that yet.”

“Marg does,” Arya said with a sniff. “You’re sure she hasn’t told Robb?”

Sansa and Margaery laughed aloud in unison. “No, I’m sure,” Sansa replied. “Look how Robb’s been acting.”

“Oh, true…” Arya said with a shrug. “He’s no good at playing dumb. He’s gotta go for broke. You really should tell everyone some time, though. Not that I’m not _thrilled_ to be the second person you told or anything.”

Theon scooted closer to Sansa, leaning back against a pile of pillows and tugging her until she teetered over and snuggled into his side. “Don’t fall for it, Sans. She’s just trying to get into position to lord her knowledge. She can’t lord it here because she was the last to know so far.”

Arya squawked, sounding very much like Robb.

Theon snickered. “You Starks, your sigil should have been a raven, with all your squawking.”

Arya’s phone buzzed just then and she picked it up and grinned. “Gendry’s here. You brought the rum, right?” she asked Sansa.

“Yeah, I brought it, it’s downstairs--”

“Nice, I’ll tell Gendry.”

Arya texted him again as the doorbell rang. She took off like a shot out of the room. Which looked _very_ comical given that she had to crawl on all fours to get anywhere in the blanket fort.

Marg was next to follow, with Theon and Sansa remaining behind. Sansa cuddled into his side, hiking her thigh up over his hips.

“You don’t want to go downstairs?” he asked, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Not just yet…” she whispered, turning so she could kiss his neck and throat, causing his hands to grip her just a bit more tightly.

“Better not start that,” he murmured, his voice a bit more gruff than it had been. “Likely to embarrass myself.”

“Doubtful,” she crooned, kissing him again before he shifted to sit up.

“C’mon,” he said. “If Gendry’s here, he’s probably making drinks.”

He crawled out of the room and Sansa followed him. Once they got downstairs, they slid past Jon and to their feet, Theon brushing off his jeans before reaching for her hand and dragging her through the living room.

“I was about to send a search party,” Jon teased.

Sansa rolled her eyes.

“Your search party would have gotten an eyeful,” Theon bounced right back.

“Hey. That’s my cousin,” Jon warned, even though his eyes were dancing with mirth.

“Who said I was the eyeful you’d have gotten?” Sansa asked.

Jon shrugged. “Nothing I’ve not seen before, to be honest.”

Sansa choked out a laugh as Theon pulled her along into the living room. “Exactly what do you boys get up to?” she asked.

“Oh the usual. Pillow fights in our underwear, practice kissing, and online shopping.”

Robb was hanging back from the kitchen. He turned around at online shopping. “I resent the notion that I do any of my shopping online.”

Sansa wrinkled her nose. “You know what, forget I asked.”

She thought about changing in her pyjamas and spotted their bag shoved behind a chair. She fished it out and tapped Theon’s arm to let him know she was going to change. She did so quickly in the tiny half bath that was stuffed under the stairs. Seriously, how any of the guys used this room without giving themselves a concussion was an absolute mystery.

Once she’d returned, Theon took the bag to go change as well.

Robb shifted uncomfortably, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You alright, Sans?”

“Hmm?” she asked, knitting her brow. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I just mean… I never asked. Just had a temper tantrum and you had to talk me down from it.”

She scoffed. “Come off it. You would have talked yourself down. I was just trying to mitigate.”

“I don’t think I was angry with Theon,” he said slowly. “Just think I was surprised.”

“I’m not the one you need to tell,” she said pointedly.

“I know, I know. And there I go making it about me again. None of this is about me. It’s you who--

“Stop it,” she snapped. “Stop treating me like a bloody victim, Robb. I’m not some damsel in need of your saving.”

“Fucking hell, Sansa, I know that,” Robb said, sighing heavily. “Look, I’m just saying, if you need anything, I’m here. I’ve always been here.”

“Always been here to overreact,” she muttered, deciding she’d had enough of this conversation, opting to change it. She craned her neck to see into the kitchen. “What’s Gendry making?” she asked. The blender soon drowned out everything, just as the scent of fresh bananas wafted through the air. “Oy, it’s banana daiquiris!” Sansa gasped as soon as the blender shut off. Theon returned, tossing their bag into one of the chairs and moving in to stand between her and Robb, draping his arm over her shoulder.

“Great. Now I’ve got a mess in the kitchen as well as upstairs,” Robb groaned.

“Oh, get your head out of your arse and have fun with us,” Sansa countered.

“Get my head out of my arse?” he asked, repeating it as if he couldn’t believe what she was saying. “I thought you’d be the first to admit that this should be a tactical meeting of sorts. It’s _your_ pictures that wanker has. Or is this reaction something I should have kept to myself? An overreaction, Sansa? Is it an overreaction?”

Sansa frowned, feeling as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head. “Fuck off, Robb,” she turned, all ready to have to explain to him why the fun night was needed and then spend the rest of it sulking, except Theon beat her to it. Well, the explanation anyway.

“Hey Robb, calm your tits, mate. We made a plan and we can’t act on it till tomorrow morning. The only other things we can do are sit around and worry. And since Sansa’s been spending an awful lot of time doing that, I think this is exactly what she needs, so if you need help, I can get a crowbar from the back of my truck and extract your head from your rectum, or you can just shut your mouth because while your heads up there, it’s just you talking out of your arse and none of it’s helpful.”

Robb’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Excuse me for being the grounded one.”

“Right. You are the grounded one. While you hang out there on the ground, I’m gonna go upstairs and drink banana daiquiris with my girlfriend and yours too. Have fun.” Theon reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

He slid his arm around Sansa and steered her out to the kitchen where Gendry was pouring the icy, pale yellow drinks into Jon and Robb’s mismatched tumblers.

“Hullo,” Gendry said with a wide grin. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced, but know you’re Sansa, by process of elimination… and also because Arya told me her sister had long red hair. Think I’ve seen you down at the bar a few times, yeah?”

Sansa smiled. “I’m not there nearly as often as my other siblings, but I am occasionally. Pleased to officially meet you, Gendry.” She took one of the proffered glasses and took a long sip, sighing happily over the pleasant burn as it went down. “Fuck me, that’s good.”

“Perhaps later, either when we have fewer witnesses or we drink enough of these and have fewer inhibitions,” Theon teased Sansa before holding out his hand to Gendry. “I think we’ve met before, mate.”

“We have,” Gendry replied, reaching out and shaking his hand. “Robb’s birthday party.”

And then he turned on the blender again and all hope of conversation was lost.

Once all the drinks were blended and poured into glasses, they didn’t really think about talking much anyway. Gendry made fucking amazing banana daiquiris and while Sansa herself preferred margaritas, she found half of hers to be gone by the time she approached the stairs.

She offered Jon a sip, but he declined. “I’m staying up to keep watch,” he informed her.

“He’s the bouncer,” Arya informed her. “Cover charge is a banana daiquiri. You know, to keep the boring asses down here where they belong,” she directed over her shoulder at Robb before bending at the waist with her tumbler of frozen daiquiri and barreling headfirst up the stairs through the blanket tunnel they’d created.

“It’s my house,” Robb called after her.

“It’s mine too,” Jon countered.

“And what? You’re gonna keep me from going upstairs?”

“I’m the bouncer of this sleepover,” Jon quipped, smirking as he uncapped his bottle of water and took a sip.

“You’re the wanker, is what you are,” Robb muttered. “And it’s not a bloody sleepover, Jon!”

Meanwhile, it was becoming increasingly apparent to Sansa that they hadn’t thought this thing all the way through. But she was about three inches into her daiquiri already, and she certainly wasn’t going to hang out down here with Jon and Robb, so that left the daunting prospect of crawling back up the stairs.

She crept like a tipsy velociraptor, opting for confidence in her creep, rather than second-guessing where she was placing her feet.

And by the time she’d reached the pile of pillows, her daiquiri was almost gone. She sighed and sucked at the straw anyway.

Theon switched their glasses so he had her empty one, shooting her a wink that despite everything, still made her cheeks heat up a bit.

“But this is yours!” she argued.

“Not really my thing,” Theon said with a shrug, holding what looked to be Robb’s hidden bottle of whiskey in his other hand. “Besides, you seem to like it.”

“Trying to get me drunk, Greyjoy?” she asked, raising her eyebrows coyly while she popped her straw into Theon’s glass and took a long sip.

“No, because you’re practically useless when you’re drunk, Sans,” Arya informed the room, causing a very giggly Marg to become even more giggly as she tucked herself back in place. “Gendry’s making one more pitcherful and then he’s coming up too.”

_“Come on, man!”_

The voice reverberated up the stairs and caused all of the girls to titter uncontrollably. Well, Marg and Sansa. Arya hadn’t tittered a day in her life and wouldn’t start now. But it was Arya’s version of a titter and that’s all that mattered.

Jon was apparently keeping his end of the bargain and stopping Robb from coming upstairs and it struck Sansa as hilarious.

_“It’s my house too! And my girlfriend’s up there!”_

They couldn’t hear Jon’s retort, but they did hear thumping as Gendry lumbered up the stairs, somehow not spilling his pitcherful of banana daiquiris.

He slid in beside Arya and passed the pitcher down so she could refill her drink.

Sansa had nearly finished the glass Theon had given her, so she set it down and sighed. “I should probably go get some water, right?

“That’d be the responsible thing to do,” Theon agreed.

“Fuck responsibility, there’s water in ice,” Arya reminded her. “And there’s ice in these daiquiris, therefore, you’re perfectly hydrated, because daiquiris are the perfect drink. It has all your essential nutrients. Potassium, water, rum...”

It might have convinced Sansa a little more if “essential” hadn’t had four extra syllables.

“Yeah, I’m gonna go get some water,” she said, regretting her decision the second she moved because the room was spinning quite a bit. It made for an interesting trek downstairs and made her see, if only for a moment, the merit in Robb’s arguments about the blanket fort. Theon came with her and didn’t seem nearly as winded despite how many sips of that whiskey he’d had.

She felt as if she’d climbed a fucking mountain by the time they reached the landing where Jon was seated. She stumbled into the room, and she and Theon collapsed on the sofa in a pile of limbs. She felt warm and sleepy, and his arms felt so heavenly, she almost forgot about the reason she’d come down in the first place. Water.

Groaning, she hoisted herself up and walked out to the kitchen to fetch a bottle from the fridge. She returned to where she’d come from promptly because he was warm, and stumbling through Robb’s slightly sticky, dark kitchen wasn’t nearly as fun as it sounded. And it didn’t even sound fun.

He tasted like whiskey when she pressed her lips to his, and apparently she took too long in tasting him, because Robb threw a pillow at them, making a sound of disgust.

“Oy, stop it or I’ll get the hose.”

“You’re just mad because you’re too uptight to party with your woman,” Sansa quipped, uncapping her water and taking a rather large sip.

“Someone’s gotta keep their head on straight,” Robb reminded her.

She frowned at him. “I’m still not letting you rain on my parade.”

“I just don’t really understand why everyone’s in party mode when this thing is hanging over us. He had people at Marg’s,” Robb reminded them. He puffed out his chest a little and it almost made Sansa laugh. Almost, because he was still being downright priggish.

“Marg needs this as much as I do,” Sansa replied.

“And Marg is smart enough to ask for help when she needs it,” Theon said. “She was scared, so she came to us. I think she deserves to get her mind off his horribleness so long as she’s able. Sansa too.”

“Too right,” Sansa replied, polishing off the rest of her water and pushing up off the couch to go grab a beer since she knew damn well that the daiquiris were likely long gone.

While she was popping the cap off the beer, she heard the front door open. She panicked for only a second, her eyes darting to the clock on the wall to see what in hells’ time it was before she heard Ygritte call out a greeting and calmed again. Of course Ygritte was here. She was probably just getting off her shift at the station.

“Ygritte!” Sansa took a long sip of her beer as she came back out into the living room, wrapping one arm around the other woman, who looked rather hot in her uniform. If she did say so.

“I ever tell you how fucking hot you look in uniform?” she asked, laying her head on her shoulder briefly.

Apparently two daiquiris and a half of a beer made Sansa actually say so.

Sansa didn’t really care, but Ygritte was entertained enough for both of them. “That’s it, Jon, I’m leaving you!”

Robb rolled his eyes and Theon appeared at her side and tugged the bottle out of her hand to steal a sip. And then he kept it afterward. She leaned up to press her lips against his jaw and he chuckled a bit nervously. “Not that I’m worried, but I figure if anyone else has a shot at you, it’s Ygritte.”

“What about Marg?”

“She wouldn’t have you, you’d kill all her plants.”

“Ass.”

“You love it,” Theon reminded her.

After kissing Jon hello, Ygritte bent to peer up the blanket tunnel. “That looks bloody fantastic. D’you have all the booze up there, or--”

“Hey, nuh-uh!” Robb yelled suddenly, shaking his head and pointing at Ygritte. “You can’t let her up. She doesn’t have a daiquiri.”

“They’re surely all gone, Robb,” Jon argued.

“Daiquiris ain’t my drink, but I can have this!” Ygritte grabbed the beer from Theon’s hand before he could take another sip. She chugged the rest of it down and belched, throwing a wink at Sansa before she turned back to Robb. “Satisfied, Stark?”

“Not even close,” Robb replied. “That was less than half full anyway.”

“Fine,” Ygritte pulled at the front of her uniform shirt, tugging it from her trousers and unbuttoning it. She tossed it down to the floor and grabbed the hem of her undershirt, hiking it up until she reached her bra, which she flipped up along with it, revealing both her breasts, right in Jon’s face, before quickly flipping it all back down again.

Jon pursed his lips as if deep in thought. “Yeah, that counts.”

“Fuck it all,” Robb groused as Ygritte scurried up the stairs.

“How’d you get up here?” Arya bellowed. “You had to have a daiquiri!”

There was no sound for a long moment and then Margaery and Arya squealed as someone else, presumably Gendry, started applauding.

Sansa, wide-eyed, glanced over at Theon, who was choking back laughter at the entirety of the situation.

“That was fucking bollocks,” Robb muttered, only loud enough for them to hear.

“I dunno, looked like tits to me,” Sansa replied, which earned her a chortle from Theon and Robb even smirked a little.

There was another long silence and then a very loud screeching sound as Ygritte guffawed. “Good show, Marg. I think those might be the nicest ones I’ve ever seen!”

Robb’s mouth hung open for a second.

“What--” Theon began.

“I think Marg flashed everyone,” Sansa said, smirking. “And it broke Robb’s brain.”

“Right, fuck this…” Robb held out his hand to Theon, who automatically reached into his pocket and pulled out the whiskey bottle he’d been sipping from.

Robb knocked it back and swallowed, screwing the cap on and marching over to Jon. “Right, I’ve caught up, I’m going.”

He was halfway up the stairs before Jon could even be arsed to move, after which, he just shrugged and pulled out his phone. “Whatever.”

Sansa grabbed Theon’s hand, but he pulled her back close.

“Just wondering, are you going to be flashing as well?”

“Why? Are you going to forbid me?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

He chuckled. “As if I would. As if I could… Nah, I was just wondering because I need to hit the head and I didn’t want to miss anything.”

She grinned and leaned over to kiss him. “I could give you a private showing later?”

“I’d like that very much,” he replied, kissing her again before turning and heading to the teeny bathroom under the stairs.

Sansa climbed through the blanket gauntlet after that, collapsing on the pillows once she got to them because it was so much harder than before.

“Sansa!” Marg reached for her and pulled her close, flush against her side. “We were just about to… what were we going to do?” She asked, turning to Robb.

“Play a game,” Gendry supplied.

“Spin the bottle,” Ygritte said.

Sansa wrinkled her nose. “I have siblings up here, Ygritte.”

“Oh right. I forgot.” Ygritte laughed and reached for the bottle Robb still had in his hand.

Sansa knew better than to touch that stuff. Whiskey did terrible things to her. Arya and Robb continued to bicker about what to do, and Theon crawled back, scooting in beside Sansa.

Marg had Grey Wind still tucked under one arm as she snuggled closer to Robb, clinging to him like an octopus.

“We could watch a movie,” Arya supplied.

“I turned off Netflix because we weren’t using it,” Robb said.

“I turned it back on because I was,” Arya countered. “Where’s your laptop?”

“On my desk,” Robb said with a heavy sigh. “I should be angry about you stealing my Netflix, but…”

“But you’ve got a sleepy Tyrell wrapped around you and it’s taken all the fight out of you?” Arya shot back as she crawled out from under the edge of the blanket fort to go find Robb’s laptop.

“What takes the fight out of _you_?” Gendry wondered aloud. “Do I have to cling to you like that?”

“Try it and find out,” was her saucy reply and Sansa groaned.

“There are other people in the room, Arya.”

“Oh my gods no way,” Arya deadpanned, climbing back under the fort and collapsing a bit of it before propping the laptop open on the floor in front of all of them. “What are we watching?”

“Bake Off,” Sansa and Marg said simultaneously.

“Fuck no,” Arya groaned.

“We can make a game out of it,” Ygritte suggested. “Take a shot every time they say buttercream.”

“We’d all be dead of alcohol poisoning within the hour,” Theon said, causing Robb and Arya to look at him. “Yeah, big surprise. I watch what Sansa wants.”

“ _You_ requested it the last two times,” Sansa mumbled as he leaned back on the pillows. She lay her head on his chest and he dragged his fingertips up and down her back.

“Yeah, well. I needed to see who won.”

“Are we really watching Bake Off?” Arya asked.

“Yes, put it on and get over here,” Gendry commanded.

Arya raised her eyebrows. “Punching above your weight there, Waters.”

Gendry looked nonplussed, pushing the empty pitcher far away so he wouldn’t knock it over with his long limbs.

With no other suggestions forthcoming, Arya turned on Bake Off and crawled back over to Gendry. They were halfway through the second challenge when Ygritte crawled off.

“Won’t see her again,” Robb said with a snicker.

Sansa’s eyelids were heavy when she smiled in response. She felt Theon’s lips brush against her forehead. “You still awake?” he murmured.

“Only just,” she answered.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah? I don’t think I drank that much.”

“No, I mean… with everything. You okay?”

“No, but we can worry about that in the morning, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said. She felt him nod before she felt his lips on her forehead again. “In the morning.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, okay...
> 
> So here it is.
> 
> Like... I hope this is good and I hope it's satisfying?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks, as always, to treaddelicately, who helped me so much with this chapter.
> 
> Also like... thank YOU GUYS? For commenting and making me feel like the story I'm telling is good.
> 
> I feel like this might be my favorite thing I've ever written and that is largely due to you readers, who make me feel so wonderful every time I update. (the other part is due to my beta, who brings out the best storytelling in me always)
> 
> I hope you enjoy this penultimate (thanks for the word, tread!) chapter. There is one more and then an epilogue.
> 
> Eeee, I can't believe we're finally here, y'all! :D :D :D

**THEON**

* * *

When he woke up the next morning, his neck fucking hurt.

He was warm, though. Slightly sweaty. With Sansa curled around his body like she was using him to keep from touching the ground, which likely contributed to his discomfort, but he wasn’t about to disengage from her arms.

Anyway, his neck hurt, and when he opened his eyes and glanced around the room, he was confused. For longer than was probably necessary. He was with Sansa, as evidenced by her hair and the way it conspired to choke him to death. That was the same as every night.

But this wasn’t her bed. Had they slept at his house on the floor again?

He shifted and a bolt of blunt pain pierced his forehead. “Fuck,” he groaned.

“Turn off your bloody alarm,” Robb grumbled. “I will kill you if you hit snooze again.”

Theon only vaguely realized that the dull throbbing in the base of his skull wasn’t actually there, but was the result of his phone buzzing on the floor beside him.

Sansa’s hand groped for it, hitting the snooze once more. “Sorry, that’s me,” she mumbled. “We have to get up, but I don’t want to.”

Right. They’d stayed over at Robb’s last night.

On the floor of his bedroom. With plenty of pillows that seemed to have been displaced during the course of the night.

And they had to get up this morning. He had to get in touch with Ramsay. They had to go see Jon’s bloke at the precinct. They had things to do today.

Theon patted Sansa’s shoulder. “Come on, love. At least let me get up.”

She groaned and rolled off him, her groans growing louder the more she moved.

Theon knew exactly what she meant the second he moved again. More blunt pain in his head.

“Fuck…” he mumbled, sitting up and looking around the room. “Bloody fucking hells.”

Robb was alone in the middle of the floor, Marg had seemingly gone somewhere. To the bathroom?

“I have eggs downstairs,” Robb mumbled.

The thought made Theon want to gag, but he knew it was the only way he was going to get up today and not be completely useless.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” he replied, turning to look at Sansa. He would have grinned at the grimace she was currently sporting, but it hurt too much to attempt facial expressions.

“Want me to help you downstairs?”

“Don’t touch me,” she replied. “I’ll make my way down.”

“Arya and Gendry?” he asked, looking over at the two of them, curled up like a couple of puppies underneath the blanket.

“If you so much as try to come near me, I will skin you alive and wear your skin around, pretending to be you, in order to hide your death,” Arya stated.

Theon snickered softly, wincing as he followed in the direction Robb had taken.

Someone had taken down the blanket fort in the hallway, folding the sheets and blankets neatly on each stair and against the wall.

Whoever it was, made it much easier to maneuver his way downstairs to the kitchen for his customary hangover cure: a raw egg and a bit of tabasco.

He tried not to think about it. He knew it was disgusting, but it worked.

Theon heard someone on the stairs behind him, but it was every man for himself right then. He’d go fetch some aspirin for Sansa as soon as he was able to walk without feeling nauseated.

He made his way to the kitchen, where Robb had already set out two glasses, breaking eggs into them. The sauce bottle was sitting there on the counter too. Theon took the one closest to him, tapped a bit of Tabasco in, and knocked it back.

It was slimy and sticky going down, but the second it touched his stomach, he started feeling better.

“Ugh,” Sansa gagged from the door. “That’s enough to make me puke.”

“If you do, aim for the bin,” Robb said, keeping his voice low. “I don’t want to clean it up.” He swallowed his egg as well.

Sansa made her way to the dining room chair, reaching over to yank the garbage can over. She held her hair back messily with one hand.

“I forgot she has to throw up to feel better,” Theon said softly, accepting the glass of water Robb was holding out. “Sorry, love. I’d have brought something up for you.”

“Nah, she likes an audience,” Robb teased. “Likes to make sure we all know how miserable she is and feel a comparable amount of discomfort.”

“Shut up, Robb. Go suck an egg.” Sansa gagged then gripping the garbage can with one hand. Theon moved over to take her hair for her, but she managed to compose herself.

“Can’t say that word,” She coughed.

“Coffee,” Arya gasped from the doorway.

“Fuck please no,” Sansa whimpered.

“You’re going to ralph anyway, might as well hurry it up,” Arya griped. “Otherwise you’re going to have to move in with Robb’s bin and poor Theon won’t have anyone to cuddle him at night.”

Gendry followed soon after, reaching for the bottle of rum from the top of the microwave and uncapping it. He took a rather large swig and recapped it, meeting Theon’s eye and shrugging. “Hair of the dog.”

“Where’s Marg?” Theon asked.

“She’s around. She started cleaning this morning…” Robb took another swig of water and paused for a moment. “She doesn’t get hangovers.”

“Bullshit,” Arya said. “She was drinking more than any of us.”

“And yet, I’m fine,” Marg said brightly, ducking in through the back door, looking very much like she’d just taken a morning run. She was holding the mail and grinning. “I don’t get hangovers.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “Where were we on coffee?”

Sansa gagged and Theon pulled a chair up beside her to rub her back.

Robb started the coffee, causing everyone to groan a little when he ground the beans, but once the drip started, Sansa finally gave up and puked into the trash can.

She was shaky afterward but was able to go to the bathroom and brush her teeth.

Ygritte was apparently sleeping it off while Jon was out at the shops. He came back with enough food to cook breakfast for a small battalion.

Or a bunch of hungover idiots who were up drinking past their bedtimes and past what their age dictated.

“Did you get bacon?” Arya asked.

“I did. Two pounds of it… didn’t know how hungry you’d all be…”

Sansa had emerged from the bathroom, popping two aspirin and reaching for Theon’s glass of water to wash them down. She looked better. As good as someone who’d just vomited in front of everyone could look, he supposed.

Theon rubbed her back when she leaned against him. “Never let me do that again.”

“I can promise to try, but you’re very willful, Ms. Stark.”

“Me? I never was,” she deadpanned but turned to nuzzle his jaw anyway. “You smell good, despite having just swallowed a raw egg.”

“You too, despite having just upswallowed into the bin.”

“I brushed,” she countered. “More than I can say for you.”

“Point taken,” he said kissing her cheek before going off in search of their bag for his toothbrush. He found it on the living room floor just outside the bathroom. And he got his toothbrush and brushed over the sink and narrowly missed hitting his head after.

When he came out, everyone was sitting around the kitchen table and Jon was clearly frying bacon.

He might as well go and get it over with. Ducking outside, Theon tapped out a quick email to Ramsay. He was unsure of what to say, so he finally just told him to call. Swiping out text was difficult, but maybe talking wouldn’t be?

Of course, he didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t for his phone to ring mere seconds later. Which it did. Trust Ramsay to be up bright and early and ready to fuck everything up.

“Morning, Theon,” Ramsay said brightly. “I expected to hear from you last night. But I suppose you might have been busy? Having one last night with your lady love?”

“Thought about what you said,” Theon replied, choosing not to focus on anything Ramsay said. Just sticking to the facts. That’s what he had to do.

“Have you?”

“Aye, I have.”

“Well, don’t keep me waiting, Greyjoy,” he urged. “I despise titillation. You should know that.”

“Go ahead and release the information I gave you. Leave Sansa out of it.”

Ramsay was silent for a split second. “Wait… you’re serious?”

“Yes,” he said. “Dead serious.”

“I’m surprised. Dare I say it? You want to spare your girlfriend and take the brunt of the ridicule yourself? My, my, could be love?”

Theon’s nostrils flared and he didn’t answer. “Just release my information, okay? And you’ll turn over the originals of Sansa’s photos?”

“As promised. I’m nothing if not a man of my word,” Ramsay said. “But uh, do tell, T. Are you bringing Sansa with you to pick up the photos?”

“No,” he said firmly. “She’s not coming with me.”

“I really think she should, “Ramsay replied. “Because I feel it’s my responsibility, nay, my duty to return those pictures to their rightful owner. It’d be the only thing to do.”

Theon sighed.

“Is there a reason she wouldn’t come with you? Did you already tell her? Has she ceased speaking with you? Are you in the dog house?” Ramsay asked.

Theon thought fast and answered. “No, not yet.”

“Then bring her. Just to keep me honest. Oh and come to the usual place. Around three, we’ll say? Bit late for lunch, but what can you do?”

He knew better than to believe a word Ramsay said. He wanted Sansa to come alone because he was going to spill the beans and try to watch Theon’s world come crashing down.

“Just to be clear. If I don’t bring her…”

“No photos,” Ramsay said. Theon could practically hear his smile. “Plus, she’s got something of mine, I do believe. I’d like it back. I could have called the authorities on her for nicking it, but I’d accept it back with a bit of an apology. Why don’t you pass that along to your girlfriend?”

Theon didn’t answer, he simply ended the call with Ramsay and made his way back inside Robb’s kitchen. Everyone seemed a bit more lively now that Jon’s frying up breakfast.

There was a greasy plate in the center of the table and a lingering smell of salty smoke. He wasn’t at all surprised that they hadn’t saved any for him.

“Don’t look so low, Theon,” Sansa nudged him with her elbow and picked up her napkin to reveal a rasher of bacon underneath. “I had to fight Arya off physically to keep that for you. Even hungover, she’s a bit of a shit, so…”

“So I should share it with you?” he asked, taking a bite from the first piece.

“I already had mine, that’s all yours.”

“Mmm, I love you, Sans.”

“Ugh, I think I might throw up now,” Arya gagged from her seat. “And eat that fucking bacon before I do.”

“I just sat down, calm yourself.” Theon took another slow bite from his first piece of bacon and Arya growled from her seat. “Fucking animals the lot of you.”

Sansa rested her head on his shoulder and he again, offered her some, but she shook her head. “What kept you?” The way she asked indicated she might already know the answer.

“Just got off the phone with Ramsay…” Theon said softly, reaching out to brush his fingertips over her forearm. She clasped his hand tightly.

“How’d it go? Was he agreeable? Fuck it, I know he wasn’t. What happened?”

“No, no, he agreed to the terms,” he said slowly. “He did. But he wants something in return.”

“His phone?”

“Yes, but more than that.”

“I suppose the promise of ruining your life isn’t enough, is it?”

“He wants to hand the photos over to you,” Theon said slowly.

“Why?” she asked. “I mean, I’ll do it if I have to, but why?”

“He asked me if you knew about what I’d done. I lied and said yes. I believe he wants to tell you what I did. In an attempt to hurt me more. And you, I’d wager…” Theon bit down on the second piece of bacon, the crunch almost deafening. “If we’re going to get those photos, you’ll have to pretend as if it’s the first time you’ve heard.”

Sansa was silent, nodding slowly. “If I want them back, that’s what I’ll have to do?” she asked. An odd question, given their conversation, but Theon nodded all the same.

“Yeah. if You want them back, you’ll have to act.”

“Alright. Good to know,” she said, taking a deep breath and letting it out again. After that, she didn’t bring up the matter again.

The rest of the breakfast came in pieces. A plate full of scrambled eggs. The swearing when only three people ended up with eggs from that plate. The promise of another plate. Sansa getting up to help Jon. Everyone groaning because Theon and Robb got Sansa’s eggs and they all had to settle for Jon’s.

Jon ended up glaring at the lot of them while he made the toast. Sansa made the beans.

And then Jon remembered belatedly that he’d bought sausages. And Sansa shook her head and sat back down because she refused to cook bangers, citing a nasty burn on her left hand as a reason.

By the time the bangers were served, Theon was barely thinking about Ramsay and his childish demands. They had to head up to Jon’s precinct and meet with his friend who worked in cybercrimes.

Sam Tarly.

Or as Arya referred to him: the basement nest-crow.

“He’s not a nest-crow, Arya. And you can’t call him that anyway. You don’t wear the black,” Jon huffed.

Arya snorted. “Ain’t gotta wear the black to know a nest-crow when I see one.”

“He’s got a skill we need, so treat him kindly,” Jon commanded and paused. “Or just pleasantly. Fuck it, Arya, pretend he doesn’t exist, okay?”

They arrived at the station at half-past eleven and made their way down into the basement of the building. It was a cool, drafty, damp place with bad lighting, but tons of storage. And in the midst of all the storage was an office belonging to Sam Tarly, the Watch’s resident Cyber-Crimes expert/record keeper.

Theon, Sansa, and Arya made their way down the back stairs of the station house, blinking rapidly at the change in light when they stepped into the basement.

Tarly was seated at his desk, drinking something out of an absolutely enormous styrofoam cup and humming along to some music that was lightly playing out of his desktop speakers.

“Oy, Sam,” Jon greeted him, and he smiled in response, looking surprised when the rest of them walked into view, but he still smiled all the same.

“I didn’t know you’d be bringing others…” Sam muttered. “We only needed the one.”

“I was, but my cousin wanted a tour of the station. Her boyfriend came along,” Jon said, a bit more loudly and jovially than was strictly necessary. He reached out to clap Theon rather stiffly on the back before speaking again. “I figured I’d bring them down to visit you for a moment.”

“Hullo again, Sam,” Sansa said with a smile. “This is Theon, have you met?”

Theon shook his head and extended his hand to Sam. “Don’t think we have, no.”

“Pleased to meet you, Theon.” Sam’s hand was clammy, but his handshake was firm, if a bit rushed.

“Are we alone?” Jon whispered to Sam.

“Aye, we’re alone,” Sam said, nodding. “The sarge was down here earlier, looking for something in the records, but he’s gone to lunch now. We’ve got about… thirty minutes tops, I’d say.”

“Cor, will that be enough time for you to get up out of your chair?” Arya laughed.

Sam turned to face her for the first time. “Arya…” he sighed heavily, not addressing her more than that.

“Heya, Sam,” she said, grinning.

Theon sensed a bit of a history there, but he wasn’t sure exactly what. Again, Jon had his own life apart from him and Robb, so he had to assume this was part of it.

“He helped me look up information on my landlord,” Arya said, grinning and popping her gum. “Or should I say, he pissed about and got really, really nervous when I hijacked his computer to do it myself?”

“I could have been fired for that,” Sam hissed.

“Wouldn’t that be a shame?” Arya deadpanned. “You’d have to go do real work then. Or go back to school and get your librarian degree.”

“Arya, knock it off,” Jon said. “We haven’t got much time and you can’t waste what little we have acting like a wee shite.” He slid a piece of paper across the desk and Sam tisked when he looked at it, scanning the words and shaking his head.

“I don’t see a case number, Jon.”

Theon’s heart sank a bit before Jon replied. “No case number, just my own curiosity. We got that off of someone’s phone. We need to check who owns the account.”

“Someone’s phone?” Sam asked. “How’d you get anything off of someone else’s phone, Jon?” He sounded very disinterested like he was just making small talk. But Arya answered anyway.

“I hacked it.”

Jon sighed. “She guessed the password.”

“Guessing passwords isn’t hacking,” Sam said bluntly.

“That’s really mean of you to say. You don’t see me telling you that sitting on your arse isn’t copping, but here you are--”

“You literally tell me that every time you see me,” Sam muttered. “But anyway, yeah-- curiosity requires you to fill out a form. One we keep in the files way back in the back here, it’s going to take forever to find, Jon.” He spoke deliberately as he was typing something into the browser of the computer. Unlocking his interface, it looked like, judging by the reflection in Sam’s glasses. “Nobody touches this,” Sam said. “Really, don’t. Especially Arya. Don’t type anything in that box there and hit search, alrighty? No shenanigans or anything. Just wait until Jon and I get back with the form.” He stood, heading back into the dark hallway behind him, with Jon following.

Arya was quick to take his place on the seat and squint down at the screen, knocking her sunglasses down from her forehead to her face again.

She pulled the slip of paper over. “I’m in.”

“For the last bloody time, you’re not hacking if you simply--” He sighed. “You didn’t even guess a password here, I typed it in.”

“Don’t care, I’m in… and I cannot see…”

“Probably the sunglasses,” Theon muttered.

Sansa sighed. “Arya… please.”

“I know, but they look so cool, don’t they?” Arya waggled her eyebrows before pushing them back up on her forehead. “There. Happy, Mum?” she sniffed and bent towards the screen again.

“What was that all about? Them leaving like that?” Sansa asked.

“Oh Sam’s got a stick up his arse and in order to do anything sub-lawful or whatever around him, he’s gotta pretend he don’t know what you’re up to. Even if he’s in the next room because of the aforementioned stick and can’t trust anyone to touch his computer.”

Arya typed a bit, glancing down at the slip of paper Jon had placed beside the mouse. She hit enter and grinned. “Noice,” she said under her breath, clicking a few times and printing out what was on the screen. “It definitely is Roose’s campaign fund. It’s in his name. Well, Committee to elect Roose Bolton.”

She folded up the paper just as Theon noticed something up above the desk.

“Fuck, Arya… that’s a bloody camera there.”

“Where?”

“There,” he indicated, nodding up at the camera in question. Arya’s face went white, but she was still out of the seat, stuffing the proof into her pocket by the time Jon and Sam returned.

“Don’t worry about that camera, it’s never worked,” Sam said with a smirk. “Budget cuts include all the basement security cameras.”

“You might have told us that…” Arya shoved her printed off proof into her back pocket.

“And miss out on all this fun?” Sam asked, dropping the form he’d gotten for Jon into the shredder beside his desk and quickly clearing all the data from the screen. He also dropped Jon’s scrap of paper in the shredder as well.

“Thanks, Sam,” Jon said. “We gotta go, get this to… to the right people.”

Sam shrugged. “Don’t really see what I did, but alright.”

They headed back out of the basement and back up to the parking lot. Arya groaned as soon as the sun hit them, popping her sunglasses back down. “Why’s he so bloody by the books?”

Jon didn’t say a word untilt hey ducked into the car. He turned then, nodding to Arya’s pocket. “Did you get it?”

“Yup,” Arya confirmed. “It’s Roose’s campaign fund for sure.” She pulled the phone out of her pocket. “Here, Sansa. Take this thing. She tapped around on the screen and then handed it to her. Just restored it to factory settings. So Ramsay won’t know we saw anything. I already took screen shots and sent them to Dad.”

Sansa took the phone and dropped it in her purse.

“Then I guess the next thing we need to do is scan this and send it to Dad,” Jon said slowly.

“On it,” Sansa replied, holding out her hand and smoothing the paper out on the backseat of Jon’s car. Theon watched as she snapped a picture with her phone and quickly sent it on to her Dad with a single line of text. _“Will this work?”_

She got a reply seconds later with a thumbs up emoji. And then Ned literally sent “ _thumbs up”_. And then “That will work.”

She smiled and showed the screen to Jon, who chuckled as he started the car. “Still doesn’t know how emojis work.”

Jon pulled out of the precinct car park and they drove around for a few moments until Ned sent another text to Sansa.

_“I’ve scheduled a meeting with Roose over lunch. I’ll get back to you as soon as I’m able.”_

Sansa read it aloud and everyone was silent for a long moment. Trust Arya to break any and all awkward pauses, however.

“Okay so what do you guys want to do for lunch?” Arya asked, flipping down the visor and peering behind it before flipping it back up. “Gendry’s gotta go into the bar soon, but he could get Hot Pie to whip up something in the kitchen for us?”

“Hot Pie’s back?” Jon asked, sounding surprised. “I’d be up for lunch, then.”

“I can just text Robb and we can meet at the Hammerhead?” Arya started.

“No, uh…” Theon began quickly. “Uh, just drop me and Sansa off at hers. We’ll catch up with you later.”

“Oh right. You’re meeting Ramsay for the… unpleasantness?” Arya wrinkled her nose.

“Not until three,” Sansa said, glancing down at her watch. “That gives us at least--”

“I’d like to take you out myself,” Theon said softly. It wasn’t a plan, really. He’d only just thought of it. But he’d still like to all the same.

“Take me out?” Sansa repeated, as if he was speaking High Valerian or something.

“Yes. Take you out. Take my girlfriend out for lunch, if that’s not too novel a concept?”

Arya sucked her teeth. “Awwww.” Her eyes were really small and squinty, and if Theon knew her at all-- “You’re gonna duck out for a nooner, aren’t you?”

Sansa sighed heavily and Theon rolled his eyes. “No. Not as such, I’m afraid. Just a regular, boring, run-of-the-mill lunch without you lot there pretending the breadsticks are walrus tusks.”

“You did that first, mate,” Jon countered.

“Yeah and it was funny the one time, Snow. Twelve years ago,” Theon sighed. “But you all do it every time we go out and I’m surprised we didn’t get thrown out of the last place.”

“That’s why we’re going to the Hammerhead. Gendry won’t throw you out for acting like barmy idiots,” Arya argued.

“All the same, I’d like to take my girl out myself,” Theon reiterated.

“Fine, fine, fine. Go out and do your nauseating couples-things,” Arya said, waving her hand.

“You and Gendry do nauseating couples-things too,” Sansa countered.

“But we do them in the privacy of our own apartments,” said Arya. “Or we at least wait until the bar’s mostly empty and do it there.”

“Mostly empty?” Sansa asked.

“Oh you would pick that out.”

“I hope you’re not confessing to semi-public indecency, Arya,” Jon warned.

“I suppose that’s what you could call it. What other name is there for gazing longingly into each other’s eyes and making plans for our sodding future?” Her grin was cheeky as fuck.

Jon chuckled and turned on his blinker, turning down the street where Sansa lived. She’d left her car there the night before, so they could just grab it without having to go all the way back to Robb’s and explain once again why they wanted to be alone.

“Contributing to the putridity of a couple, Jon Snow,” Arya sighed.

It seemed to hammer the point home. That and Sansa promising Arya that they’d catch up later. And Arya wishing her a happy shag o’clock. And Sansa pulling a tiny piece of her sister’s hair until it snapped and Arya screamed loud enough to wake the dead.

Jon reached back to close the partition between the front seat and the back, and Theon wrapped his hand around Sansa’s to keep her still and from kicking the living daylights out of Arya.

“Wow that really never ends, does it?” Theon asked, breathing out a laugh.

“No, we just got bigger and stronger,” Sansa replied.

“And harder to hold back,” he filled in for her, leaning down to kiss her lips and hopefully resetting the anger countdown so she wouldn’t burst through the partition to somehow land a flying crane kick to Arya’s mouth.

“Don’t think you can control me like that,” she hissed, even though she pulled him back down for more kisses. More kisses that made him grunt because she was biting him more than kissing him. Of course, he didn’t hate it, so that was a surprising thing he’d found out about himself that day. He’d file it away for later, though, because they were pulling into her car park.

“Hey, hey… knock that off,” Jon said, rapping on the partition. “I arrest people for much less.”

“Let us out then,” Theon countered, tapping on the door as Jon came round to open it.

Arya leaned over the seat to get one last swat in on Sansa, which Sansa tried to return, but Theon dragged her bodily away from the car. Waving to Jon in the process. “Come on now, leave your sister alone,” he chided.

“She’s a little twit sometimes,” Sansa groused as Jon pulled back out with Arya making faces at them through the window.

“Yeah, but you love her and you’re happy you’re so close with her.”

“She thinks she’s my best friend,” she said, smiling a bit.

“She’s not?”

“Not the only one. I think Marg qualifies now.”

“That it?” he asked, grinning a little when she rolled her eyes.

“Fine, you too.”

“Oh, don’t do me any favours, Sansa. I’ve got Robb, I don’t need you.”

She grinned and crowded up close to him, he took a step back until he ran into her car and she could crowd even closer. “You don’t need me? I could just… poof! Disappear, and you’d be fine?”

“Where are you planning on disappearing off to? Because I’m not certain my truck could make the drive, but if your piece of shit car could, then maybe--”

She kissed him again. Softer than before even though she was laughing against his lips.

“Please don’t disappear,” he murmured softly. “Don’t know what I’d do without you. I can’t suck my own--”

“Fuck you,” she pushed him away and he reached for her again.

“You know I’m joking.”

“I just like watching you squirm.”

“Not now, love, I was telling the truth about taking you to lunch.”

She grinned and unlocked the doors. “Where to?”

“I dunno, somewhere we won’t run into anyone we know.”

She laughed. “Might have to drive out of Winter Town for that, no… wait! There’s a new place opened up on the square, wanna check it out?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, climbing into the passenger seat while Sansa climbed in as well and started the car.

He fiddled with the radio and she smacked his hand away, putting on her music instead because according to her, the driver got to pick the tunes. He figured he’d hold off on telling her she could pick the tunes no matter who was driving because it sounded like the sort of thing he’d live to regret one day.

The new place on the square turned out to be a sandwich shop with something called ‘craft sodas’, which Theon knew next to nothing about. But if they were anything like craft beer, it’d be hit and miss.

Their server was young, and she kept cocking her head and fluttering her eyelashes at him, so Theon looked down at his menu and addressed it directly, moving closer to Sansa so maybe the server would get the idea that he was happily predisposed.

She didn’t.

“You’re Theon Greyjoy, aren’t you?” she finally asked after they finished ordering. She was lingering by the table instead of fetching their drinks.

Theon pressed his lips together in an effort to look stoic and humourless. “Yep. That’s me.”

“You used to go out with my sister. Do you remember? Milah? I’m her younger sister.” She pointed her her nametag that was currently situated over her left breast.

He glanced down at it briefly and then back up again. “Mansy, yeah. I remember your sister.”

“She’s gone off to university now, but I’m--”

“Working here, yeah. Looks like… quite a place.” He smiled again tersely and handed over his menu and Sansa’s. “Nice to catch up, but I think my girlfriend ordered a lavender cream--”

“Yeah, I remember,” she said, swallowing hard as she turned. He almost felt badly for her, but it wouldn’t do to have their server, who seemed at the oldest, barely out of high school, throwing herself at him.

Sansa was looking at him with barely concealed mirth when he finally ventured to look up at her. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she squeaked, shaking her head. “Just watching you utterly obliterate that poor girl.”

“Oh c’mon, Sans. I had no idea who she was.”

“You don’t remember her sister? Milah, was it?”

“I remember Milah,” he said, waving her off. “She was someone a long time ago. In my past, you might say.”

She sniffed. “Oh my goodness. You’re not ashamed, are you?”

“Of having been the Winter Town mattress for a few years now? Yeah, a bit!”

Sansa shrugged. “I couldn’t care less, Theon. You’re with me now.”

“Yes, and I promise I would never--”

“Hush, I know,” she reached over and squeezed his hand. “I know you would never. I just like teasing you.”

“I could think of better ways to do it,” he said with a sniff.

“How about instead, we play a game?”

“What sort of game?” he asked, happy for the subject change.

“A guessing one. What foreign object is Mansy going to jam into your drink?” Or do you think she’ll just pour salt in?”

“She wouldn't do that.” he scoffed. “Servers don’t do that.”

“Aye, yes they do!” Sansa countered. “And all the more power to them. Foodservice workers put up with a lot from the likes of us. Even without completely dashing their young hopes.”

“Oy, Sansa! She’s much too young for me.”

“I’m young,” she countered.

“Don’t start. You’re three years younger, that’s nothing.”

“When you were fifteen, I was twelve.”

“Correct, and if I’d tried to date you when I was fifteen, it would have been disgusting. Now that you’re twenty-two and I’m twenty-five, not so much.”

“She’s cute,” Sansa said, spying Mansy as she hurriedly tried to take another table’s order. “Her makeup is lovely. How do these girls do that with the eyeliner? I’m going to ask.”

“Sansa…”

She smirked and leaned over to lay her head on his shoulder briefly. He turned automatically and kissed her temple.

Odd reflex, now that he was thinking about it. Almost as if he’d been trained to do so, but the only thing Sansa had trained him to do wasn’t proper for public viewing. Or for public thinking, apparently, given how it made his cheeks go red and hot in an instant.

She scooted a bit closer and he tucked his arm around her shoulders before draping it across the booth behind her.

Mansy came with their drinks, and like she’d promised, Sansa asked her about her eyeliner. And then she lit up like a thousand fairy lights as she explained to Sansa exactly what product she used and how she did it, and by the time she left again, she was smiling and Sansa was following her on Instagram.

“How do you do that?” Theon asked.

“Do what?” she asked, taking a sip of her soda and making a face before switching with him. “That’s disgusting.”

“I told you not to get that.” He wasn’t going to let her change the subject, but he had to say it.

“Tastes like soap,” she gagged.

“Lovely,” he deadpanned, watching as she took a long sip of his and sighed.

“That’s good, that,” she nodded to his drink. A pina colada seltzer that he’d only ordered because he knew damn well she’d hate the one she got.

He smirked a little. “Happy to hear it, but how do you do it?” She raised her eyebrows quizzically and he continued. “How do you always know the right thing to say?”

She shrugged. “It’s common sense, really. And I did what I’d have liked if I’d been in her shoes.”

“You complimented her eyeliner, though. Seems awfully particular to have just been something that came to you.”

Smiling a bit, she shook her head. “Not really. You made her feel itty bitty and unpretty and unimportant. I chose something I could compliment without seeming fake, and fixed all three in one go.”

“Maybe you should be the one running against your father,” Theon said with a grin. “Because that’s bloody diplomatic of you, Sans.”

“Maybe one day,” she said, sniffing. “I don’t want to be in charge. At least not until Dad’s done. And Robb’s done. I think it’s what he wants. Eventually.”

“I think Robb would be happy to get out of law school at this point,” Theon said with a laugh.

“Mum and Dad would be happy for that as well,” Sansa said with a laugh.

Theon reached for the soda she’d placed in front of him, taking a small sip and finding it surprisingly not as soapy as he’d originally expected. But the mention of Sansa’s mum was chilling even long distance, so maybe he was just trying to find anything to think about that wasn’t Catelyn Stark’s death glare.

“Hey…” Sansa leaned over and checked him with her shoulder. It was an awkward positioning, so it hit him in his underarm and made him huff out a laugh.

“Yeah?”

“Mum’s an idiot. And I’ve known that for a while. Her judgment is flawed. She’s lucky to have my dad.” Was he really that transparent? It was like she was reading his mind.

Theon laughed a little at that. “Nah, I think with the information she has on me, her judgment is at the very least, warranted.”

Sansa snorted. “It’s not. But she’ll warm up to you. Or else.”

“Or else what?” he asked. “You’re not going to go see her?”

She shrugged. “Whatever works.”

“Sans, you can’t not see your mum.”

“I won’t have to for long. She won’t be able to stand it. She understands me more than Arya.”

“Even if your boyfriend is a degenerate?”

“Former degenerate,” she corrected.

He chuckled a bit at that. “Former or no, I’m corrupting you. In her eyes.”

She rolled her eyes. “I was sending semi-nudes to boys when I was in high school. You’ve corrupted nothing. You’re simply wonderful.”

“I’m--”

“And don’t say you’re not, I won’t listen,” she said. “Everything you’ve been putting yourself through? Everything you were willing to do to protect me?”

“Your dad’s doing some of that as well. More than me.”

“You’re both too lovely for your own good.”

He wasn’t sure why, but that made him smile. Being compared in a favourable manner to Ned Stark.

“Well, I can’t speak for him, but I know I couldn’t let you be humiliated just to save myself.”

She smiled, but then the food came and they began to eat. It was silent for a bit, and when they picked up the conversation again, she’d changed the subject to brighter things. Summer things. Since it was her final semester at Uni, Sansa had many ideas for how she’d like to spend the summer.

Most of them with him, helping him to finish up that house because he needed to get it sold already. Her words, not his.

“You don’t have to help me, Sansa,” he said, laughing a bit as he took a bite from her sandwich after he’d finished his own. “I’ve been doing fine without your help.”

“You’d still be drowning in that basement if it weren’t for me,” she reminded him.

“Instead, I’m drowning in your ego.”

“Come on… let me help you. I’m still part-time at Tyrell’s. I can help you in my downtime.”

“I’ll have to pay you,” he said.

“Nope,” she shook her head. “Call it an internship.”

“Don’t really call it that in my line of work,” he chuckled.

“Fine. An apprenticeship, then.”

He cocked an eyebrow and shrugged. “We’ll see. You’ll have to put in a formal interview. Can’t just go hiring you because I like the way you fill out jumpers.”

“Flooded basement,” she said.

“Not here, love, we’re in public,” he teased, and she swatted his shoulder.

By the time they’d finished up, paid the bill and were walking hand in hand back to her car, it was nearly two-thirty. And Ned still hadn’t called them to clue them in on his meeting with Roose. But now they had to go off to meet Ramsay.

He’d told them to meet him at the usual place. Theon knew exactly where that was.

There was a burger place on the main strip of the road. It was where Ramsay did most of his ‘business transactions.”

So with his lunch sitting heavy in his belly, but with Sansa’s hand clasped tightly in his across the front seat of her car, they made their way to the burger place, pulling into the car park and idling in a spot for mere seconds before Theon’s phone buzzed.

_“Come on in, I’m in the best booth. Back corner. Want me to order you anything?”_

Theon didn’t respond to the text, simply pushed down the feeling of panic and desire to just take Sansa and run. “He’s inside,” he said softly. “Are you ready?”

“No, but I suppose we can get it over with, and then we’ll be done with him?” she replied.

“For now,” Theon sighed. “What’s to stop him from bringing all of this back?”

“If Dad succeeds, maybe Roose will have him arrested.”

“Maybe,” Theon acquiesced, unwilling, or just unable to accept any end to this Ramsay Bolton nightmare. He wished he’d never even met him. None of this would be happening.

_Liar. You know he’d be fucking with Sansa anyway, given his father’s political plans._

Even with that knowledge, he still couldn't help but take some of the blame on himself. Or all of it. Ramsay might very well have dropped Sansa if Theon hadn’t gotten involved. Fuck, he’d only been trying to help her. Perhaps he’d made it worse?

He felt sick to his stomach as they made their way into the restaurant. It smelled of chips and grease, and felt a bit too warm, even with the cool temperature outside.

Sansa slipped her hand into his and squeezed as they approached Ramsay in the booth where he was seated.

“Oy, there’s the happy couple now!” He was sitting alone, but the tables all around them were full. Which meant he wasn’t alone this time. Far from it. “Have a seat, will you?”

He gestured to the expanse of booth beside him, and Sansa gingerly sat down first, which made Theon nervous, he’d meant to put himself between Ramsay and Sansa, but there was nothing for it now.

He slid in close to Sansa, reaching for her hand as they waited.

Ramsay leered at the two of them before speaking. “You know, I wasn’t really fully believing that you two were together… thought maybe it was some sort of joke or prank. But…” He sucked his teeth. “Theon really hooked a good one, didn’t he?”

Theon’s jaw set roughly, his teeth clenching the more Ramsay spoke. “I knew he wanted you way back when. Could tell by the way he spoke about you.”

Sansa’s eyebrows went up and Theon squeezed her hand. This was bullshit. All of it bullshit. He’d spilled a lot, but he’d known better than to ever tell anyone about his feelings for Sansa. He prayed to the Drowned God that she knew somehow. That she knew Ramsay was lying through his teeth, hoping for a reaction.

Sansa’s perfectly sculpted brow was the only thing that moved. The right one rising slightly and giving her a very bored look. She exhaled deeply, sounding very much like a sigh. “Do you have something for me, Ramsay?”

He smiled then, one of those sickening ones where you could see all his teeth. He looked like some poor child’s first jack-o-lantern or something. “I do indeed, but I thought we could sit and chat for a moment, Sansa? Do you mind if we chat? I have something I need to tell you.”

“Fine.” she snapped, making Theon cringe a bit because she needed to tone it down. He could hear her seething hatred in every syllable she uttered. And if he could, so could Ramsay. “Go on, then.”

Ramsay’s eye twitched a bit and he started in very quickly. “You’re awfully rude for someone who stole something from me yesterday.”

“Am I?” she asked. “Seems like you’re the one with the upper hand, regardless. The phone got wiped before we got it home.” She reached into her pocket and slid the bricked phone across the table.

Ramsay smirked and grabbed it, sliding it into his own pocket.

“Right so that brings me to the unfortunate news I have to share. Well, it’s unfortunate for _you_. But in exchange for those lovely photos you want to keep all to yourself, it turns out Theon’s done something rather selfless. It’s to make up for his selfishness before, but still. Perhaps that will soften the blow a bit, darling.”

She smiled without humour. “Go on, then.”

Ramsay’s eyes flashed and he clenched one hand into a fist and slammed it on the table. “Theon sold out your dad. Sold out that ‘cousin’ of yours too. That Jon Snow? He’s not your cousin. He’s your half-brother. Turns out your daddy-dearest couldn’t keep it in his pants.”

Sansa was silent for a long moment. Theon braced himself for her cold shoulder. They’d rehearsed this. She knew exactly how to look at him.

But she didn’t.

She didn’t say anything at first. She did look at Theon, but it was with all the love he’d grown to know and expect from her gaze. And when she turned back to Ramsay, her eyes were as icy as her mother’s. More so, even.

She shrugged and shook her head. “I already knew that. Do you really think Theon keeps things from me? He told me. Told Dad too.”

Ramsay was silent for a short while before he finally responded. “You’re bluffing.”

She grimaced and shook her head. “Nah. I’m not good enough at lying to bluff you.”

He looked between the two of them, getting angrier and angrier the more he looked. His eyes narrowed and he moved closer to Sansa, provoking Theon to scoot away and take her with him.

Ramsay paid it no mind, he leaned so close he could have kissed her if he wasn’t by all appearances, looking like a snake who wanted to bite her head off. “You’re a fucking liar, Sansa Stark.”

She laughed. “No, I’m not. And to prove it, I’ll share another unpleasant truth. You could do with a breath mint, Ramsay.” She turned to Theon. “Let’s go.”

“You don’t want your photos?”

She laughed. “You’re not going to give them back. And I don’t want them anyway. You keep them. It’s more of me than you’ll ever see.”

Ramsay wrinkled his nose and stood up when they did. Theon wanted to say something, but he was choked up. He couldn’t speak without seemingly either bursting into tears or laughter. “You won’t get them back,” Ramsay spluttered. “They’re as good as everywhere the second you leave here.”

“Go for it,” Sansa said.

“I will. I hope you like life as a porn star, Sansa.”

“I hope you like it as a kiddie porn peddler, Ramsay.”

He stopped short. “What did you say?”

“It’s kiddie porn, isn’t it?” she asked.

“It’s not, you were legal, I did the math.”

She pursed her lips and shrugged comically. “I dunno. I know how old I was when I took them, and I know how old I was when I sent them. Who’s to say?”

“You were fucking eighteen when you took those,” Ramsay hissed.

She simply shrugged again. “We’ll see what I remember. Besides, it’s considered sexual assault to share nudes without the subject’s consent. I’m fairly certain at least one of those charges is a felony. Prison’s not fun for kiddie smut peddlers, Ramsay.”

Theon almost choked again, but Sansa didn’t falter. Didn’t look away. Not even after Ramsay did.

“Fucking hell, here.” He snapped at a nearby table, and the guy sitting at it jumped up, handing him a folder. He pushed the folder into her hands. It was manilla. Folded. And Sansa took a moment to check what was inside. Once she did she glanced back up. “And where did you get them? Originally.”

Ramsay sighed heavily. “Look, I don’t know his name. He’s a friend of one of these blokes.”

“Where did you get them?” she repeated.

Ramsay turned to another table, where one of his dogs shuffled forward, scribbling a name down on a napkin. He handed the napkin to Sansa and she looked at it, wrinkled her nose disdainfully, and stuffed the napkin in her pocket.

“If these show up again, I’ll be calling someone.”

“Consider them gone,” Ramsay said softly.

“Good,” she said. “Now. Go fuck yourself gently with a spike, Ramsay Bolton.”

She was breathing heavily when they reached the car. Her hands were shaking where she was gripping the envelope, so Theon took the keys and drove for her.

“What was that?” he asked, unsure of how else to address it.

“That was me, taking control of my own narrative. I refuse to play-act anymore. I don’t care what happens with these bloody pictures.”

“Well you got them, and the name--”

“Oh they will be all over the internet before bedtime tonight,” she said harshly. “He won’t post them, he’ll get one of his cronies to do it. And it won’t be traced back to him. But it’ll ‘ruin’ me, just the same.”

“Sansa, why did you--”

“Because. I don’t care anymore. Those photos aren’t me. They’re of someone who naively thought herself in love with Joffrey Baratheon. Someone so eager to please that she gave too much. And Theon, I am fucking sick of giving too much to the wrong people. There are so many right people who aren’t getting shit. So to the hells with the rest of it. I don’t bloody care anymore. I’d rather spend my time working on my future than fretting about someone finding my past.”

“Who are the ‘right people’?” he asked softly.

“What?” she asked, still incensed as hell and looking like a fiery flame goddess at once when she turned to face him.

“Who are the ‘right people’?” he repeated.

Taking a deep breath she smiled. “Well. I am. For one.”

Theon grinned. “Fucking glad you said that.”

“Did you think I was going to say ‘you’?” she teased.

“For a moment.”

“You are a right person, though,” she replied. “You are. But I am as well.”

“Good. Too right you are.”

“I mean… I’m a right person. I’m not wonderful. But I want to fix that.”

“You’re perfectly wonderful, Sans,” Theon argued.

“Nope. I still have something I need to come clean about. We both do. But mostly me.”

“If you’re talking about telling your family about all of this, we don’t have to. The end result is the same, Sans.”

“No, I want them to know how you helped me. I don’t want there to be any kind of inequality between us. I want to start this the right way.”

He turned to look at her, blinking in the bright sun. She shone brighter than anything else, though. But for once, it didn’t hurt to look at her. It felt good to look. To stare. Not too long, because he was driving, but still. “Sansa, everything is… none of this was in order, love. Maybe that’s just us.”

She shrugged. “That’s fine. It’s us. But I want everyone to know what our deal is, because if I have to fight with my mother about you one more time…”

“You can let it go in one ear and out the other, can’t you?”

“No,” she said bluntly. “Because I love you and I can’t stand for everyone else not to as well. How would you feel if your father didn’t like me?”

“Not to burst your bubble, love. But I doubt he would. He doesn’t like anyone.”

“Okay, bad example. What if… I dunno. _Robb_ didn’t like me?”

“Robb can go fuck himself, you’re amazing. Also, shame on him for not liking his sister.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay fine, I can’t explain it. But I want her to know you’re good for me. I want everyone to know. I don’t know why, but…”

She reached over and squeezed his thigh. He dropped his hand from the wheel to lace their fingers as they drove in the opposite direction of the burger place.

“That’s fine, love,” he said softly. “We can do whatever you need.”

“I need to do this,” she assured him. He nodded once before changing the subject.

“Where to, Red?” Theon asked. “Arya invited us to hang out at Hammerhead.”

“Take me home,” she said softly. “We’ve got things to do.”

He smiled. “Any of those things happen to be fun at all?”

“Every single one,” she replied. “I believe you said something about wanting to make love anywhere butt on a bathroom vanity?”

“I think _you_ said something about making love everywhere,” he countered.

Her grin was infectious. “Well. I suppose we need to get started on that, then.”

She was kissing him when he parked her car. Pulling him close in the stairwell and then releasing him to follow her up to her door, which she fumbled to unlock.

He wasn’t helping though. He was sucking on her neck.

And then she was pulling him down on the floor of her living room, her hands under his shirt and rucking it up over his head, even though his coat was still on.

By the time he got that sorted, she had yanked off her own coat and top, reached for his belt and unzipped him, thrusting her hand into his jockeys and wrapping her fingers around him.

Her fingers were cold at first, which made him jump, but they didn’t stay that way.

She started out gently, maneuvering them both until he was laying on his back and she was kneeling between his knees, kicking off her jeans and knickers before pressing kisses to his belly and making him grunt with every soft brush of her lips.

She pushed down his trousers. Jockeys too.

And when she wrapped her hand around him this time, she held him lower, holding his cock still so she could wrap her lips around it.

“Sansa…” he gasped, his hand going down to tangle in her hair. Just to stabilize. Not to force. Because fucking hells, it felt so good just like that. She was slowly moving up and down his length, focussing her mouth and tongue on the tip, running around the head in slow, wet circles. All the while she kept a slow pace with her hand. Up and down. Around and around.

She sucked softly, moaning a little in the back of her throat. A feeling that reverberated up his spine like a xylophone with every dip of her head.

Releasing him with a soft pop, she pressed a kiss to the head of his cock, grinning up at him like his head wasn’t about to explode even without that image. “Tell me what feels good, okay?”

“It feels good,” he said automatically.

She smiled then, running her tongue around the straining tip. He rocked up slightly. “No, tell me what specifically feels good, I want to improve my technique.”

“Your technique is lovely,” he assured her.

“It could always get better.”

He huffed out a sigh when she sucked him back into her mouth, tucking her lips around her teeth to suck him far back into her mouth and then her throat.

“Gods, fuck… Sans…” he whimpered. “Like that. Do that again.”

She did, moaning softly and making his toes curl.

“Oh fucking hells, Sansa… just… just do that again, not all the time, just keep up that rhythm. Yes, fuck that’s it. Like that… like that.”

She wrapped her hand tightly around the base of his cock, fingers slicked by her own saliva as she fluttered her tongue and he brought one hand up to his mouth, not sure why he was trying to stifle anything, while the other was trying not to pull her hair as her head rose and fell in his lap.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, stop. Stop or I’ll… I’ll come… Sansa!”

She pulled back, wiping her hand across her mouth as he clenched every muscle he could think of to keep from coming all over her face. And her chest. Fuck, he needed a cooldown or she was going to climb on top of him and he was going to come. And there wasn’t a fucking condom nearby either.

How long had she said they’d have to wait on her pills to start working? A month? Seven fucking hells.

He panted, licking his lips as he reached for her, kissing her soundly and breaking off the kiss to coax her to climb on top of him.

She tried to settle down across his hips, and as much as he wanted that, he knew it wouldn’t do to finish inside her right now, so he kept coaxing her up. And up, and up.

Until she got the picture and started to shake her head. “Theon, not here…”

“Please,” he whispered. “I want to… it’s so much more comfortable like this.”

“I could suffocate you,” she countered.

“Not bloody likely,” he laughed. “Come now, climb up here. Let me love you, Sansa.”

“Fuck you and that line, Greyjoy.”

He grinned and she started moving. Planting her hands on either side of him as she crawled up the length of his torso. He helped her straddle his head and even lower herself down over his mouth. The second he started sucking on her clit, though… she couldn’t even speak.

“Gods… Theon…”

Well, barely. She still had the most important words, anyway. And that was all she said. Over and over and over again as he licked her up and down and fluttered his tongue before sucking her clit so softly and making all sorts of obscene sounds.

That was what did it though. The obscene sounds got her hips rocking. It got her riding his face. He planted both of his feet on the ground so she could move just as much as she wanted.

It didn’t take long after that. He’d done this enough to know just what she liked and what she fucking loved.

So when he did all the things she loved one right after the other…

Well… it was explosive.

When she came, she was loud, gasping into the ceiling and he couldn’t help it, he reached down and grabbed his cock, rubbing up and down harshly. All it took was a couple of sharp tugs and his hips jerked. He made quite the mess. That she abruptly leaned back and put her hand in, drawing a surprised curse from her lips even as she shook with aftershocks.

She rose up off his mouth and leaned to one side until she could turn and sit on the ground, looking at him with a very interesting look on her face. It was half blissed-out, half surprised. It was ridiculously hot on her.

“Did you just…”

“It would appear…”

Her lips tugged up in a smile and she reached for the box of tissues on her coffee table and pulled some out. She used some to clean her hand but gave the rest to him.

By the time they’d done that, they’d come down enough to notice that their phones were both buzzing. His in his jeans where he’d pushed them down and off, and hers in her purse that she’d tossed by the door.

Grabbing their respective phones, they checked them, Sansa jumped up and started looking for her knickers. And her blouse. Once she’d found them and pulled them on, she proceeded to call back whoever had called her. Her father perhaps. Or Jon.

But all the information he needed was in a text from Jon.

“ _Roose B. pressing charges against Ramsey. Embezzlement. Felony. Going to go serve warrant and cuff him now.”_

“Embezzlement,” Theon said, bringing both knees up to prop his arms upon. “Roose is pressing charges against Ramsay.”

Sansa dropped to the floor beside him, reaching for his phone even as hers was ringing. It _was_ Jon. And he didn’t answer. Likely because he was in the middle of arresting Ramsay.

She let her hands drop, both phones sliding onto the floor.

“Embezzlement,” she repeated. “Is that a felony or a misdemeanor?”

“I dunno, I could call Robb and ask?”

“I’ll just do a web search. That’ll be quicker than Robb having to look it up in one of his tomes…” she trailed off for a moment. “It depends. If the amount stolen is less than nine-hundred fifty, it’s a misdemeanor…”

“Otherwise, it’s a felony?”

Sansa nodded.

“Holy fuck, a felony,” Theon gasped.

“A felony,” Sansa repeated. “He won’t be in prison for life, though.”

“No, but he won’t do well inside. His father’s made some enemies. Hell, Ramsay’s made some enemies,” Theon said.

She let her phone fall again and turned to catch his gaze. “Does that mean we won?”

“We won,” he said softly.

They sat there in silence for a long moment, as if mulling it over. Tasting it slowly. The victory was sweet, but only just.

She smiled. “I suppose we should all go out for drinks this evening with everyone, huh?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, but not right now. I’m naked and your top’s on inside out.”

“Blimey,” she deadpanned, raising her arms. “Take it off me, then.”

“Fine, but we’re breaking in your couch next. My back hurts too much for the floor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, if you'd like to, I am accepting Song Prompts right now, and I have lots of GoT ships available for potential prompts. So again, if you'd like to send a prompt to me, you can do so with[this form.](https://forms.gle/T1p4iR1yHvetGECS7) Thanks and have a great one! <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, y'all! Just an epilogue left to go!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so here we are!!!
> 
> I honestly can't believe I got here. I never would have if it weren't for your interest in my little fic and the overwhelmingly positive response whenever I uploaded each and every chapter. You're all so indescribably wonderful, and your comments seriously made my entire life, each and every time you left one. Thank you for giving my story a chance! <3
> 
> This is a relatively new fandom for me, writing-wise, even though I've been reading in it for years. I was frankly scared to take the plunge. Until speaking with a fandom friend of mine, [Meilan_Firaga](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meilan_Firaga/pseuds/Meilan_Firaga), who assured me that the Modern-AU folks in GoT were a delight to write for, a delight to read, and just all-around great people, I started to dip my toes into the water. So thank you to Mei, who gave me the little push I needed to get started writing over here. Great decision. <3
> 
> Also, treaddelicately deserves a heaping dose of credit here. Tread has hands-down, been the best beta I've ever had the pleasure of working with. She brought out the best in my writing and asked all the right questions that needed to be asked. I am forever grateful and forever _thankful_ that I met Tread and that it was fandom who brought us together

**SANSA**

* * *

Theon dragged the tines of his fork against the edge of the plate again and Sansa’s hand shot out to grab his wrist and stop the noise. Normally, such things didn’t bother her, but right now, her nerves were on edge. Well, she supposed Theon’s were as well, hence his nervous ticks. Like the fork thing and how his leg was bouncing right beside hers and making her chair squeak.

She squeezed her fingers a bit more tightly around his wrist and turned slightly to catch his eye.

He gave her a weak smile and shook his hand free, dropping the fork in the process. He’d been jumpy all day. Since that morning when she’d suggested heading over to his house to see if there was anything to be done there. Mostly to curb his nervous energy, but he’d ended up finishing the bed frame he’d begun building. It was now sanded and stained. Drying out in the shed in his backyard.

“I’ll clear your plate if you want?” he offered, pushing his chair back and standing. Without waiting for her to respond, he reached out and took both her plate and silverware, stacking it with his and taking it out to the dining room.

“You bussing the whole table, or…” Arya asked, watching as he left the room. She turned back to Sansa. “Your boyfriend’s rude.”

Sansa could have kicked the piss right out of her. Just kicked sharply and connected with her sister’s shin. And would have, if she could reach her. Pointing out Theon’s flaws in front of their mother was just asking for it.

Luckily, Catelyn didn’t take the bait Arya was clearly offering, she was too busy speaking with Margaery. Or _at_ Margaery, to be more accurate. As much as Sansa felt for Marg, she could tell by her dancing eyes that she wasn’t put off by Catelyn’s intrusive questions. If anyone was, it was Robb, who kept intervening and answering for his girlfriend in such a way that he sounded defensive. Utterly and totally. Sansa felt a strange mix of warmth in her belly at how he staunchly defended Margaery, and mirth that Robb was finally getting a taste of the bitter medicine Mum fed all of them at one point or another.

Even though Cat insisted she was only asking questions about Marg’s shop.

But Sansa knew her mother well enough to know that the questions weren’t _just_ about the shop. As she previously stated, though, Marg looked absolutely fine, answering Cat’s questions with a deftness that spoke to her wit and abilities. As well as a crash course in how to speak to Catelyn Stark, run by Sansa herself and Ygritte earlier in the week.

Sansa rose and held out her hand for Arya’s plate instead of kicking her soundly. She snatched it out of her hand quickly enough to knock the fork that was balancing on the edge to the table with a loud clatter.

That got Catelyn’s attention. Her blue eyes widened as she looked at the fork on the table and then between her two daughters. “What’s going on?”

“I was taking Arya’s dishes and dropped the fork,” Sansa replied, exhaling as she scooped up the rogue utensil and backed up toward the kitchen.

“Do you want help with the dishes, Sans?” Ygritte asked, her eyes wide and hopeful. And as much as Sansa would love to give Ygritte a chance to escape the gauntlet that was dinner with her parents, she needed to make sure Theon was okay.

“I’ve got it, thanks for offering, Ygritte.”

She scooped up her father’s empty plate as a gesture of goodwill and followed the direction Theon had taken.

She found him standing over the sink while water ran over the dishes in his hands. The porcelain surfaces were long clean, but still, he stared into the rushing water.

“I’m going to just go tell them,” Sansa said. “Get it over with. I know Marg and Ygritte will be thankful.”

“I was thinking about it… we really don’t have to, do we?” His eyes were wide and pleading when he looked at her. And as much as she loved giving in to that face, she knew it would be better if they just got everything out in the open.

“Theon…” she said softly, reaching for the faucet and turning off the water. “It’s like ripping off a plaster, yeah?”

“More like ripping out stitches before they’re ready but okay.”

She took a deep breath and placed the two plates she was carrying into the sink as well before pulling him into an embrace. “Look, we only have to do it once. And then… you’ll feel better about being here.”

“Will I?” he asked dryly.

“Let me rephrase. You’ll feel the same as the rest of us.”

He chuckled and tightened his hold on her. “Tell me again why this is a good idea…”

“This is really only going to cast me in a more negative light. Not you.”

“You’re right, I doubt Cat could think any less of me.”

Sansa pulled back to look him in the eye. “Listen to me. You’re wonderful. And I know this. I want everyone else to know it as well. Plus, after this, you can join Ygritte and Marg in Catelyn Stark’s Most Hated. They’re lovely and Ygritte always brings wine.”

He smirked. “We gotta out Arya so she has to bring Gendry.”

Sansa giggled. “One thing at a time, Theon. Besides, I’m saving that for when that little wretch says something else to take the piss. I’m this close to dragging her under this bus with me.”

He lowered his head and found her lips. Only to stop immediately when someone cleared their throat in the doorway. Sansa closed her eyes. There was really only one person who did that. And she could have sworn she was busy with Marg.

“Hi, Mum,” she said slowly.

“Feel like I should start knocking before entering a room. Between you two, and Robb and Margaery... Did you know Bran’s got a little girlfriend now? Met her on the internet of all places!”

As interested as Sansa was about that transition of thought, she was on a mission.

“No, I didn’t know.”

“She’s a Baratheon. Stannis’ daughter. The one who was in the car with her mother when it went off that bridge? Her face is permanently scarred!”

“Does this in any way have anything to do with the fact that Bran is seeing her?”

“No, I just wanted to be sure you knew who--”

“Shireen. Yes. I remember. I’ve met her. It was years ago, but--”

Cat never did like to let anyone finish a thought when she was on a roll. “I was rather hoping he’d wait a bit before starting all this. Like Robb did, you know? I at least didn’t have to start worrying about _him_ until he met that Margaery.”

Theon started coughing, covering his mouth and turning around to fumble for a glass so he could get water.

Sansa knew the sentiment. Robb had been making his way around the North like snow flurries ever since he was old enough to figure out how to kiss. The fact that Cat hadn’t known only spoke to how far she’d jammed her head into the frozen earth to remain in denial.

“Theon! Are you alright? Is he still smoking?” Cat asked, whispering the last word like it was some kind of curse or something.

“I’m fine, Mrs. Stark. Something went down the wrong pipe, apparently.” He beat his fist on his chest twice, smirking a little. “I guess I could have Sansa take a look later. She’s great at inspecting my--”

“Perhaps some tea would help in the meantime?” Sansa asked expectantly. She closed her eyes and begged to the gods that Catelyn didn’t pick up on the little thread he’d left out there to snag later. She shot him a look when he moved across the kitchen to grab the kettle, before turning back to her mother and swiftly changing the subject. “Mum, I was hoping to speak to everyone in the dining room?”

“I was just about to serve the cake?” Cat gestured to the fridge. “Well, it needs frosting, so I was hoping you’d--”

Sansa pressed her lips together. “You thought I’d make the bloody cake for you?”

“ _I_ already made it. And made the frosting. I just haven’t put the two together…” She walked over to the fridge and pulled out two round cake pans.

“Seven hells, it’s a layer cake?”

“Language, Sansa,” Cat said. “It’s not much work, I can always do it if--”

“Deconstructed desserts are all the rage, mother. Why don’t you just put them out and let everyone frost their own?”

“That’s tacky, Sansa. If you don’t want to help--”

“It’s not me helping if I’m doing most of the work.”

“I told you, everything’s made!”

“Tossing things in a bowl and turning on a mixer isn’t as much work as frosting the bloody thing and making it look nice. I have something I need to tell everyone quickly. Afterward, I’ll frost it, alright?”

“Well, alright. I don’t know what’s so important that it can’t wait until after dessert…” Catelyn started to walk, and then paused, turning around to eye the two of them. “Is it something the both of you are telling us? Or just Sansa?”

“Mum, just go. I’ll explain,” Sansa commanded, steering her mother out of the kitchen. She wheeled around to face Theon. “I’m good at inspecting _your pipe_? That’s what you were really trying to say to my mother?”

He’d filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove, but not turned on the range yet. Snickering, he turned back around to face her, folding both arms across his chest. “You really are, though…”

“You’re going to send her to an early grave.”

“Do you promise?” he deadpanned.

“Stop it.” She held out her hand and he took it, allowing her to pull him closer. “Or I won’t inspect your pipe or anything else for a long, long while.”

“That’s hasty of you to threaten such drastic measures,” he said. “Your mum could very well take this badly, and how ever will I comfort you if I can’t--”

“Didn’t say you couldn’t. Just said I wouldn’t,” she smirked.

He groaned and leaned over to peck her lips. “Killing me, Sansa.”

“ _That’s_ killing you?” she teased.

“None too softly,” he said with a wink and she rolled her eyes.

“Come on, you reprobate. Let’s go get this over with.”

“Fine, but last chance to just escape with me. We can get to your car before anyone stops us if we run around the back.”

She gave him one last look, and he visibly acquiesced, going so far as to walk with her out of the kitchen and into the dining room, where everyone was talking quietly.

They took their seats again, with Robb nursing his glass of water and glaring down at his half-eaten pork loin as if it had done him a great disservice. Marg looked absolutely fine if a bit more demure than usual. Her hand was clasped tightly in Robb’s and her eyes darted over to check on him regularly.

“Sansa says she has something to share with us,” Catelyn said, taking away their ability to start in their own time.

Sansa felt every eye around the table turn towards her and she took a deep breath before beginning. Marg gave her an encouraging smile. She knew what was about to be said.

Arya’s foot brushed hers, and she glanced across the table at her sister, who winked, but belied no other emotion.

Everyone else looked sufficiently curious and for the first time since making this decision, Sansa realized that she might actually hurt some feelings. Robb had no idea. Neither did Jon. Or her father. They’d essentially lied to them. Gods, this was more complicated than she really wanted it to be. But a clean start. That’s what they needed.

“Right so,” Sansa began. Theon’s hand sought hers under the table and she clasped it tightly. She wasn’t alone. He was here too. They were together. The simple thought was bolstering.

“So I know the last time we came here, Theon and I sort of announced our relationship…” she said, her voice wavering a bit at the end. “And well, we were sort of… lying. We weren’t in a romantic relationship at that time…” she paused for breath and realized very quickly that she shouldn’t have.

“Oh thank the gods,” Mum sighed aloud.

Dad looked rather confused, as did Robb. And Jon. And Ygritte. Bran and Rickon likely weren’t even listening. The former on his phone and the latter tearing a paper napkin up into tiny bits.

“But we are now?” Sansa continued, leveling a stare at her mother that she very much hoped would freeze ice.

“Wait…” Robb said slowly. “Wait, we walked in on you… and I’ve seen the two of you around each other… Theon… mate… you can’t pretend you weren’t gone on her.”

“I mean, I am now,” Theon said, smiling at Sansa. “So far gone now.”

“No, but we caught you. Are you saying you weren’t boning my sister?”

“Oh for gods’ sake, Robb,” Sansa exclaimed.

“Robb! Language!” Her mother hissed.

Her brother rolled his eyes. “It’s the truth, Mum. Sansa’s a grown woman. It happens.”

“Again…” Theon said slowly. “I am now?” His smile widened into a smirk and Sansa wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss him or smack him. He was being an adorable little shit but now wasn’t the time.

Robb snorted and Catelyn covered her mouth and turned to Ned. “Say something,” she hissed.

“Robb, don’t speak of boning at the table. It’s crude and it’s not appropriate in front of your mother’s fine china.”

“Oh Eddard, honestly,” Catelyn swatted his shoulder and if Ned was bothered by it, he didn’t show it, simply averting his gaze up to the light fixture.

“So why tell us now?” Jon asked. He still looked confused. “For the record, you were very convincing. It might have been easier just to date each other.”

“Because,” Sansa said, latching onto the opportunity to barrel forward. “I feel there are some people _here_ who don’t feel as if Theon is right for me. For whatever reason.”

“That’s okay, Sans. You can say Mum. We all know you mean Mum,” Arya said, smirking down the table at Catelyn and earning a low chuckle from Jon.

“I have to agree with Jon,” Robb said slowly. “Not really sure what difference this makes…”

“How about you all let me finish talking and maybe it will become clearer?” Sansa said expectantly.

“Oy, let her speak then,” Ygritte said. “This is the best gossip I’ve heard all year, let me enjoy at least a bit of it.”

Sansa sighed and began again. “So it all started because I made a mistake.”

“A superb one,” Arya added.

“Arya, as much as I _love_ your colour-commentary…” Sansa sighed.

“That’s a lie, you hate it,” her sister countered.

“Please?”

“Sorry, go ahead.”

“Wait… Arya knows?” Robb asked, glancing around the table. “Of course Arya knows. She was probably giving Sansa pointers on how to hide--”

“Actually, that’s not true,” Theon interjected. “Arya didn’t find out until the night we all slept over at Robb’s.”

“Right,” Sansa continued. “Anyway, I made a mistake. I was set up on a blind date. And upon arriving at the date venue, I realized that my date was Ramsay Bolton…” Sansa’s voice wavered again and Theon tightened his hold on her hand.

“Oh Sansa,” Her mother cried. “Sansa--”

“I will answer any and all questions at the end, Mum.” Sansa said. If she was going to get on with this, she needed to keep going. “And while I was careful not to let anything romantic happen as a result of the date, I still found myself… charmed by him?” It almost hurt to admit. But it was the truth. “Soon after, he started coming to my apartment. And I gave him a key…”

“Sansa…” Robb said slowly. “Why would you--”

“I don’t know, Robb. I don’t know. I was… I was just stupid, I guess, I--”

“No, she wasn’t,” Theon interjected. “She wasn’t stupid. Ramsay’s M.O is that he gets into your head. Burrows in and stays there. You do things you never thought possible…” Theon’s eyes cut down to Ned, and then to Jon before continuing. “He has that way about him. If you’ve spoken to him, you know.”

“He’s right,” Jon said slowly. “I arrested him and damn if he wasn’t the most difficult collar I’ve ever taken. Not that I wanted to let him go, but it was just hard to take him in. Something about the way he just said all the right things?”

“Yeah, precisely,” Sansa said. “He says all the right things and you think what you’re doing makes sense…”

“But you gave him a housekey, Sansa… really…” Her mother sounded exactly as she’d expected. Judgemental and disapproving. Dad hadn’t said a word yet, but Sansa knew he likely was disappointed in her as well, but she had to keep going. “And the last straw was when he brought some of his friends or associates, I’m not entirely sure which they were, over to my place. They brought…” she sighed, almost unable to say the words. “Cocaine. And they were cutting it on my coffee table.”

“Cocaine!?!” Catelyn exclaimed. “Cocaine on my mother’s antique coffee table?”

Sansa sighed. “Yes, Mum. One and the same…”

“I… I… I don’t know what to say, Sansa, I…”

“You don’t have to say anything just now. I’m not finished.” And with that, she continued with her tale. “I saw what they were doing and I knew I’d let it go too far. But when I asked him to leave, he just laughed at me.”

“Cocaine!” Cat fumed. “On my mother’s--”

Sansa raised her voice a bit to drown out her mother. “They were high, all of them, and I did the only thing I could think to do… I left. I went to the university library and called Theon.”

“I just… cocaine is a hard drug, Sansa Lyanne.”

Oh gods, she’d middle-named her.

“I’m pretty sure we got most of it off,” Theon drawled, which either shocked Cat into silence or something far more frightening.

“Why’d you call Theon?” Robb asked suddenly, apparently having been deep in thought. “I mean, I was there with him, even. Why didn’t you call me?”

“You were drunk,” she stated.

“Still. I mean, I was always kind of put off that you called Theon over me, but I thought it was because he was your boyfriend… now that I know he wasn’t, I’m more than a little put off, Sans.”

“I didn’t call you because…” Sansa said, taking a deep breath. “Because I know what you’d have done. And I was scared of Ramsay and his… people. I didn’t want you or Jon getting hurt.”

“So you called Theon? Because it’s okay if he gets hurt?” Robb sounded really offended and that was what Sansa was afraid of all along.

“I called Theon because he’s dealt with Ramsay before,” she answered truthfully.

“Well….” Robb began, but Marg placed her hand on his arm and he seemed to melt under her touch. He immediately pulled back. “Well, that makes sense, I suppose. I’d have probably just run in drunk off my arse and gotten myself hurt or worse…”

“Was this the night you borrowed my car to go help Sansa? Was this that time?” Jon asked, frowning.

“Yeah, that was it. You were parking me in. And you were deep in the drink. It was a Thursday,” Theon said with a smirk.

“Oy, he’s useless on Thursday Nights,” Ygritte agreed, nodding.

“So you called Theon and he what?? Came over and saved the bloody day? Slayed the dragon and you rode off together in the sunset?” Robb asked.

Sansa rolled her eyes. “No, he…” she trailed off. Because she didn’t actually know what he had done. “He…”

“What’d you do, mate?” Robb asked, turning to Theon, who turned slightly red and started rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s not important. He left,” Theon said authoritatively. Except Sansa knew enough about him to not only question that voice, but call bullshit on it too.

“No, I’d like to know as well…” she said, turning to face him. “I mean, you’ve never told me… and in the interest of full disclosure…”

“What she doesn’t even know?” Arya asked. “I gotta know what the fuck you did now.”

“I just…” Theon took a deep breath. “Drove up in Jon’s car and turned on the lights to make him think the cops were there… and they buggered off.”

Sansa’s eyes widened.

“Seven bloody hells!” Arya grinned widely. “That’s possibly the coolest thing you’ve ever done!”

“Theon!” Sansa exclaimed. “That’s illegal!” He gave her a look that plainly said he knew that already, but she still couldn’t believe it. “No, that’s _really_ illegal! You impersonated an officer! You impersonated Jon!”

“And that’s why I didn’t want to tell you. It had to be like that. I had to get him to leave. If I’d gone up and shown my face, it’d have been a whole other game altogether, and I wasn’t in the mood.” He sniffed. “Anyway, it got him to leave.”

“You impersonated an officer of the Night’s Watch?” Jon said slowly. “And it worked.” He nodded slowly. “Okay then. Carry on.”

Sansa paused for just a moment, allowing what Theon had done to sink in. If he’d been caught… if Ramsay had found out… seven hells, he’d have…

She glanced over at Theon and squeezed his hand. His eyes met hers and she stared into them for long enough that Arya started coughing.

Not deigning to react to Arya, Sansa continued. “And then he took me up to Lannismart and bought me all the things I needed to make sure Ramsay wouldn’t come back in… new locks for the doors and windows.”

“Right, but if this was the night in question… we found you together the next day, so if you weren’t together before then… but we found you like… together… why were you there? I know it wasn’t a one-nighter… right?” He lowered his brow and looked between the two of them. “It wasn’t, right?”

“Gods, no!” Sansa sounded offended and she had to give Theon a squeeze to remind him that yes, they were together and no, she wasn’t embarrassed to be with him now. “No, I was just scared to sleep alone, so he told me we could go back to his. And then when you found us the next morning, I sort of… sprung that on everyone. Theon included. And I’m sorry… for that.”

With that, she looked directly at him, hoping like hell he knew just how sorry she really was.

“Gods, Sans… don’t give it another thought, love…” Theon shook his head. “Truly. If I hadn’t wanted to do it, I wouldn’t have.”

“I know, but it feels as if I got everything out of it and you got nothing but a headache.”

He smiled. “I wouldn’t call it a headache. More like a pain in my arse, but…” He chuckled. “Honestly, Sans. Don’t worry about it. I did everything because I wanted to.”

Mum and Dad were quiet. Mum looked to be processing, but Dad was unreadable. Sansa was about to address them when Robb started in again.

“And Arya’s only known since the sleepover, right?” Robb said. “So you actually fooled Arya?”

“Thought it wasn’t a sleepover,” Theon muttered under her breath.

“Officially, yeah. I found out that night. But I had an idea.”

“No, she didn’t. I fooled her,” Sansa teased. She glanced over at Marg, who nodded almost imperceptibly, giving her permission to continue. “Marg, though… she’s sort of known the entire time.”

Robb’s eyebrows shot up as he turned to his girlfriend. “You knew. And you never told me?”

“My knowledge of this predates our involvement. I mean, why did you think I was so keen on getting you back to my office that day? It wasn’t to check a light bulb…”

“I thought it was because… You know…” He shrugged a bit, his implication clear. Clear enough to make Catelyn sigh uncomfortably.

Marg blushed. “I mean, it was that too. It sort of… lined up. And imagine my surprise when you were also very… keen to…”

“Alright,” Cat said, holding up her hand to silence everyone. “So what you’re telling us is that you two… grew closer over the course of this entire… debacle?” She gestured to Theon and Sansa.

“Yes,” Sansa said. “We grew closer.”

“And now you’re actually dating,” Cat concluded, sighing heavily and turning to face Ned. “What are your thoughts on all of this?”

Ned shrugged. “You already know my thoughts on Theon.”

Cat rolled her eyes and shook her head in disbelief. “Even after they lied?”

“Seems to me they were telling the truth just now, Cat. Might want to give them the benefit of the doubt.”

“And Theon’s impersonating a police officer! You’ve no opinion on that either?”

Ned shook his head. “Sounds like the smartest option for the moment.”

“I still can’t believe you did that,” Sansa murmured.

“What did you want me to do, Sans? Get out and ask them nicely?”

“Well, I dunno, Theon!” She was smiling, but her mother seemed to see a chink in the armour.

“See!” Cat exclaimed.

“Oh come off it, Mum,” Arya sighed in a very put-upon way. “He’s got her addicted now, there’s no breaking them up.”

“Addicted!” Catelyn’s mouth flew open and gawped for a few seconds. “Addicted to--”

“Gods. To. His. Dick. Sorry, I forgot that the mere mention of cocaine happened earlier. Never mind that it wasn’t linked to either Theon or Sansa.” Catelyn made a squawking sound, not unlike the one that all of her children tended to replicate whenever indignancy dictated.

“Honestly,” Arya said, turning to Theon and Sansa. “You oughta just rip off the plaster and tell her you’re shacking up too.”

It was Sansa’s turn to squawk now. And Theon started stammering. “We’re _not_ shacking up.”

Robb shrugged, wrinkling his nose a bit more animatedly than was necessary. “I mean… when’s the last time you spent a night alone?”

“That’s neither here nor there!” Sansa said.

“Right? She has her place and I have mine. And as soon as I get it livable, I’ll be going to stay there again.”

“But I mean… she’ll be coming with you to stay there, right?” Arya asked.

This was quickly getting out of hand. Sansa pressed her lips together before blurting out. “Arya’s got a boyfriend. Mum, have you heard about Arya’s boyfriend?”

“You filthy little trollop, I’ll strangle you,” Arya leaped up, overturning her chair and going to reach across the table for Sansa, who scooted back just in time.

“He’s a bartender, Mum. He’s a bartender!” Sansa yelped as she ducked behind Theon and ran around to position herself behind Bran’s chair.

“A bartender!” Cat exclaimed. “Where? How long have you been dating him? Why haven’t we met him yet?”

Robb and Jon were adding in tidbits here and there to keep Mum on the tangent of Arya’s relationship. Marg and Ygritte were nowhere to be found, apparently getting the fuck out of dodge the second the opportunity arose so Sansa went to go find them.

As she passed by her dad, she heard him speak to Theon. “We could get you added to the lease if needed?”

“I mean, maybe one day, but I don’t live with her. I don’t even have clothing over there, ser.”

Smiling a bit, she ducked into the kitchen where Ygritte was currently placing one of the cake layers on a stand. Marg had a knife in one hand and the bowl of frosting in the other.

“Mum asked me to do that,” Sansa said slowly.

“I don’t mind. Besides. It keeps us out of there,” Marg said.

“Too right. And there’s cake,” Ygritte added, pinching a bit of the sponge between her fingers and popping it into her mouth.

“Fuck them and their cake,” Sansa said, pulling open the drawer and grabbing three spoons.

Margaery set down the bowl of frosting and Sansa dipped her spoon into the frosting bowl and then into the cake layer, taking a big, chocolatey bite before continuing.

“Sorry that my Mum’s such a pain in the arse.”

Ygritte shrugged. “She actually don’t bother me that much. Just ignores the fact that I exist, mostly.”

“Better than her scrutinizing your every move,” Margaery rolled her eyes. “At least you have the benefit of sharing her DNA, Sansa. That gives you some modicum of safety.”

Sansa grinned. “I suppose it does. And you are dating the firstborn. You’ve got it the worst out of all of us. Is he worth it?”

Marg beamed down at the bowl of frosting. “Indeed he is.”

“Good,” Sansa leaned against the counter and took another spoonful of frosting. “I have to say, this went a lot better than I was expecting. I thought for certain my mother was going to mummify herself when I told her I hadn’t gotten those photos back last week. So to see her back to her usual tricks is nice, to say the least.”

Marg and Ygritte smiled and then Ygritte spoke. “You, uh… you know Jon’s trying to get Ramsay charged with having your photos. It’s tough going and it’s not certain if he’ll get charged for it, because it’s a hot button issue that can make or break the case. And the goal is to get him locked up for as long as is possible. Which is looking a bit… more likely with the felony embezzlement charge.”

Sansa shrugged her shoulders. “Those photos aren’t me anymore. I don’t give him permission to ruin me with them. I don’t give Joffrey the permission either.”

Ygritte reached across the kitchen island and squeezed her hand. More of a physical gesture than she’d ever gotten from her before. So it meant more, in a way.

“Jon also said your father’s been in touch with his own lawyer. And the Baratheons as well,” she continued.

“Good.”

“That name you gave them… that’s helped quite a bit.”

“Again. Good.”

“From uh, what Jon said. Joffrey had no idea those photos had resurfaced again. He turned quite purple at the knowledge.”

Sansa snorted. “I would have very much enjoyed seeing that. The little wimp. But he can writhe in agony, or walk off the edge of Westeros for all I care. I’m moving on.”

Someone cleared their throat again. And all the girls abruptly turned to the doorway to see Catelyn standing there, looking very shaken indeed.

She approached the counter, took a look at what they were doing with the cake, and reached into the silverware drawer for more spoons.

“Go take that out into the dining room, would you? Margaery? Ygritte? Sansa, I’d like to speak with you alone, please…”

Sansa steadied her breathing as Marg and Ygritte left the room with the cake.

“Sansa…”

“Mum?” She looked up at her, folding her hands in front of her on the countertop. She wasn’t going to help her say whatever she came in here to say.

“I still don’t personally like Theon. He’s a Greyjoy. And you know my thoughts on that.”

Sansa sighed and shook her head.

“I’m not finished, so please… let me speak and I’ll let you say whatever you want afterward.”

She supposed she owed her at least that. Mum had kept mostly quiet when Sansa had spoken.

“I don’t personally like him. But… I can admit. He’s been good to you. For you. And perhaps you are good for him. And you bring out the best in each other. And in the interest of seeing you more. I will try my hardest to be civil.”

As minute as the offer actually was, Sansa knew it was fucking difficult for her mother to say it at all. So she reached over to cover her hand with hers. “I know that’s a lot for you.”

“It shouldn't be. Your father says I let people’s pasts tarnish their present. And I do. I’m guilty of that. And it’s hard for me to look at him and know that he’s good to you. It just doesn’t compute in my mind. But…” she trailed off. “The evidence counters my instinct. So I’m willing to admit it might be faulty.”

Sansa squeezed her hand. “Thank you, Mum. Are you going to tell Theon?”

Cat looked like she might be sick at the thought, but she nodded anyway. “I’ll tell him. I suppose he’s due at least that courtesy. Just… can you make me a promise?”

“Depends on what it is?”

“Fine. Promise me that you’ll not be so cavalier in the discussion of your private time together. I don’t want to know about those details. In fact, I’d rather those details not be shared with me, because I can better pretend they aren’t happening if I don’t know about them.”

“What details might those be?” Sansa asked, laughing.

“Don’t talk about ‘boning’ him or him ‘boning’ you, or otherwise.”

Laughing, Sansa shook her head. “I never have. You’ll have to take that up with Robb because, by my count, he brought it up every single time the topic was discussed this evening.”

“Except for the one Arya brought up,” Cat added, going so far as to allow the corners of her mouth to tug upwards just a bit.

She placed both hands on Sansa’s shoulders and turned her so they were facing each other. And then she wrapped her up in a very tight hug that Sansa couldn’t help but melt into. “And I’m sorry. For making you feel as if you couldn’t turn to me with your problems. I’m sorry that I judged you when I shouldn’t have.”

Sansa didn’t reply, simply pressed her lips together for a moment before hugging her mother a bit tighter. “Thank you for saying that.”

“Do you forgive me?”

Sansa smiled, leaning back, nodding. “I do. Forgive you.” Catelyn nodded and walked over to the sink to get a rag to wipe down the counter. When she was nervous, she cleaned. Which explained why every square inch of this house looked like an interior design magazine spread. ”To be clear, Mum. Is it the word you have a problem with, or the concept? Because I'm not sure I'll be able to pretend the concept isn't happening.”

Cat dropped the towel to the counter. "Oh gods, are you _pregnant_?"

Sansa’s mouth hung open for a long moment. “No, Mum? For goodness’ sake!” She reached down to press her hand against her belly for a long moment. “Why would you think that?”

“Sorry,” her mother apologized. “I was worried this entire evening that a pregnancy was the news you’d be sharing with everyone. I couldn’t get it out of my head. And good that you’re not, by the way. You're still young."

Smiling, Sansa added. "Yeah, and I don't think I'll _ever_ want children."

Catelyn spluttered, wiping vigorously at the countertop.

“I mean, how could I?” Sansa continued. “If I’m to be a virgin for the rest of my life.”

Her mother sighed heavily. “Fine. Just… don’t be crass about it.”

“Again, speak with your firstborn.”

“Oh, I intend to.”

They left the kitchen after that, with Sansa rejoining Theon at the dinner table, where he, Ned, and Ygritte were discussing Theon’s plans to loft the ceiling in the master bedroom.

The rest of the evening was spent in almost a blur of activity. With Bran showing her pictures of Shireen on his phone, Rickon dragging both her and Theon out to show them the work he’d done on the fort in the woods, and Arya promising her speedy demise for telling Mum about Gendry.

At some point, Mum had pulled Theon aside and spoken at him for a perfunctory amount of time. At the end of which, he nodded and returned to her side with a dazed expression on his face. “I think she apologized, but I can’t be certain. I’m cold, Sansa. I’m just so cold.”

She rolled her eyes and promised to warm him up when they left.

Which they did when the clock chimed nine and Bran started begging them to just stay over.

As fun as it was on holidays, Sansa had no inclination to do so now.

So she and Theon piled into her car after hugging everyone more times than was strictly necessary when they only lived about fifteen minutes away.

“Back to yours, Sans?” Theon asked as they pulled out of the driveway and onto the main highway that’d take them into town.

She inhaled deeply and shook her head. “No, I think we should stop by Robb’s and pick up your mattress. Try out that bed you built me.”

Theon laughed. “I didn’t build that for you. Honestly, make a girl come a few times and suddenly she thinks everything you do is for her.”

Deftly ignoring him, she continued. “Do you have sheets though? What size is the mattress again? We might have to go shopping tomorrow. I enjoy soft sheets.”

“No, my lady. All I have is sandpaper and dirt.”

Sansa reached over and swatted his shoulder.

“Blimey, yes. I have sheets. Clean ones. But we can head to the shops tomorrow and pick out new ones if you’d like.”

“I would like,” she replied. “Because you have horrible taste.”

Without missing a beat, he countered. “Too right, I chose you, didn’t I?”

He was grinning in that shit-eating way that he had and she couldn’t help but smile back. “I love you. For some reason.”

“Probably those aforementioned orgasms. I hear I’m quite good at that.”

“I mean. You are. But you’re also pretty handy at fixing things, so it could be that as well.”

He reached for the hand she had resting on her lap. “Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to post the epilogue next, so if you want to keep your comments until then, I'm perfectly fine with that. <3


	14. Epilogue

_**A FEW MONTHS LATER** _

**SANSA**

* * *

“Okay so keep your eyes closed, love.”

“I’m worried I’m going to fall…” she said, slowly placing her foot on the next step. It was slow-going. He was leading her down into the basement.

The basement they’d spent all of the previous month redoing. The basement that was now a game-room plus a laundry room. The basement that had once been such a source of stress for him.

There was now carpet at the bottom of the stairs, and she wriggled her toes in it once she’d stepped off the last step, taking in her surroundings. The air was no longer damp, thanks to new heating and air ducts. It was no longer unnaturally cool either. Still smelled like a basement though. Perhaps because they didn’t spend much time down here after finishing it.

Theon’s hand was warm in hers. Warm and a bit sweaty. He squeezed her hand once.

“Are you ready?”

She grinned and nodded. “Yes. I’m ready.”

“Okay, open your eyes.”

She did, blinking in the artificial light of the basement and looking around.

The room was just as empty as it always had been. There was an antique lighting fixture she’d found at an estate sale hanging overhead and looking very much like it wanted to be hanging over a billiards table, but other than that and the fresh paint and finished drywall, the game room was still empty.

She frowned and turned around, dropping his hand in the process. and not seeing anything out of the ordinary. “Wait… Theon… what’s…”

After she’d spun completely in a circle, she ended up back where she’d started: facing Theon and reaching for his hand again.

“Am I missing something? Did you paint it again?”

He chuckled. “No. I just… I wanted to give you a tour, and it starts here.”

“A tour?” she asked, laughing. “A tour of the house I helped you renovate?”

Grinning, he nodded. “If that’s okay?”

“I mean… a little redundant, babe. But sure. You know I love watching you talk about things you love.”

He tugged her close, wrapping one arm around her waist and kissing her lips very gently. “Then you should really enjoy the tour.”

He took a step back, his hands trailing down her arms until their fingers laced and he gently pulled her into the center of the room, towards the door on the far end. The one that led to the laundry room.

When they stepped through the door, she blinked at the bright sliver of sunlight that fell across her face. The laundry room still had the concrete floor with the drain in the center, but it was considerably brighter with clean glass in the windows.

“It was flooding in here. A lot. Remember?”

She laughed. “How could I forget?”

His smile was wide and infectious and he pulled her hand up to his lips briefly. “It was the first time you helped me fix something.”

“Oh, so you’re admitting I helped?”

“You did more than help, Sansa. You came up with the solution. If it hadn’t been for you, this place would still be soggy and gross and leaking.”

“Well, you were upset. I had to be the cooler head.”

“You didn’t have to do anything,” he reminded her. “Not then. Not now. You’re just wonderful. You make me better.”

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Theon…”

“I’m being serious.”

“Fine, I’ll concede. I make you better. But you make me better too.” It was her turn to tug him closer, to brush her lips over his. But that’s all he let her do before he was leaving, dragging her behind him as they went back into the game room and then up the stairs.

They stopped in the kitchen. The kitchen where he’d repainted all the cabinets and built a breakfast nook. Installed new windows. One of which was a greenhouse window inserted over the sink that looked out on the side yard. That last bit had been Marg’s idea. And Sansa hadn’t’ killed all the plants she’d placed back there either. She was actually getting better. Making her thumb a bit more green than black.

“Remember when we put down this linoleum?” he asked, fingers trailing down her forearm. There was a playful lilt in his voice. And for good reason, she supposed.

Sansa arched an eyebrow. “How could I forget? That delivery man nearly caught us. Animal.” The last word was in jest, but it held a certain heat to it that made his eyes go just a bit darker.

“I can’t be held accountable for what you wore that day,” he replied, sniffing in a faux-haughty manner that made her laugh. She’d been wearing her gym clothes because she’d spilled paint down the front of her blouse and jeans.

“It wasn’t my fault that I ruined my others,” she argued. “And it certainly isn’t my fault that you can’t keep your head out from between my legs.”

“Why would I want to?” he countered.

“Why would _I_ want you to?”

Beaming at her, Theon dipped down to kiss her again, tearing himself away before he dragged her towards the living room. Up the stairs and into the brand new hallway at the top. They’d built this from scratch. Two bedrooms, a second bathroom, and this landing area.

He spun her in his arms until he was standing behind her, wrapped her in an embrace, and rested his chin on her shoulder as they looked around the room. “Remember when you yelled at me because I was being an ass while we were putting up drywall?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes. Because you _were_ being an ass.”

“You’re still here, though.”

“Well, of course I am, Theon. Just because you are terrible at giving instructions and expect me to inherently know things doesn’t mean I automatically fall out of love with you. I knew you were just being blustery. It’s on-brand for you. And besides, you apologised five minutes later.”

“Deserved every name you called me that day,” he murmured. “What were they again?”

“Like I’m going to remember that…” He gave her a look that made her giggle and she started rattling them off. “Know-it-all. Prat-face. Dick-hat. Dumb walnut. Pig-headed.”

He chuckled. “I’m sorry I wasn’t a better teacher.”

“Like I said that day, It’s really fine. You fixed the problem. And we only lost a few sheets of drywall.”

He pressed his lips to the side of her neck, making her shiver with the contact. “You know I’d torch this place myself if I had to choose between you and it, right?”

She turned her head so he could kiss her temple. “Stop it, I would never let you. It means as much to me as it does to you.”

“I love you, Sansa.”

“I love you too, Theon.”

He yanked her hand again. Back down the stairs.

“What are you doing? You’re acting strange, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said, stopping as they hit the landing on the stairs. He nodded towards the banister. “Remember what happened there, love?”

She glanced over at the railing. The thing that had fallen and caused her to bolt out the door those many months before. “I try to forget.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I acted like an idiot.”

“You can’t be perfect all the time, love,” he reminded her, before tugging her over to the center of the living room. Behind the coffee table and in the center of the new throw rug.

“And here?” he asked, his voice no louder than a whisper now.

“What about here?” she asked, leaning over to nuzzle his nose with hers.

“That first night. When you tried to strangle me with your hair?”

“When you saved me from Ramsay? And I forced you into a fake relationship?”

He nodded, his nose bumping against hers.

“What about it?”

“First one,” he said.

“First what?”

“Memory. With you. Here. I tried to get them all, but there are others I’ve forgotten, I’m sure…”

“Breaking in that bed you built me,” she said, arching a brow.

He chuckled. “That’s an ongoing one…”

“The tour wasn’t of the house, was it? It was a tour of us?” she asked.

He nodded. “It’s sort of a preamble. To show you where I’m coming from when I say this.” Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest. She felt warm and cold at the same time. Giddy, even. But somehow, she waited. “I don’t want to sell this place.”

Surprised, she stammered. “But… you sank so much money into it… it’d fetch a great price, Theon!”

He shook his head. “None that would be worth losing every one of those things I just showed you… I know memories aren’t what makes a relationship, but I feel like we can make more here. You and I. And... “ He shrugged. “I’d like to start now.”

“What are you saying?”

“I want this to be _our_ house. I feel like it already is, unofficially…” He smiled and Sansa’s heart jumped into her throat.

“Are you asking me--”

“We already do, Sansa. I’m asking you to make it official. Let go of the lease on your flat. We’re always here anyway.”

“ _We’re always here anyway_ doesn’t sound very romantic,” she teased.

“Fine, I lie awake at night wishing you got your mail here. That the walk-in closet I built was full of all your shit and that you brought _all_ of your dying plants here to die in a sufficient amount of light. That you didn’t buy two of everything so you’d have extras at your flat ‘just in case’. I want to get rid of ‘just-in-case’ because I only want you.”

Her mouth dropped open and she closed it again, swallowing thickly. “Theon…”

“That romantic enough for you? I love you and I want you to live here. For good.”

“What if we fight?”

“Then we’ll make up.”

“What if we don’t?” she asked.

“I can’t imagine any situation where we wouldn’t.”

“Theon, we’ve only been together for--”

He interrupted her. “Do _you_ care, or do you care what everyone else is going to think?”

Taking her bottom lip between her teeth, she seriously thought about it.

He was right. She was practically living here anyway. Even when they fought, she still stayed over here. Lying down in bed in a huff and still putting her cold feet on his legs. And he let her. Then, at some point, they’d roll towards each other and talk.

They never went to sleep angry. And they always went to sleep here.

She nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I will. Live here. Officially.”

He grinned and wrapped both arms around her waist, hauling her closer and pressing his lips to hers. This time he didn’t stop, though. Didn’t drag her anywhere else. If anything, he let her pull him to the floor.

She was straddling his hips, unbuckling his belt when he asked again. “You’re really here now?”

“I’ll go talk to my landlord on Monday,” she promised. He tugged on her leggings and she shifted so he could move them out of the way. “You really don’t want to sell? You want this place to be--”

“Ours,” he finished for her, planting both feet on the ground so he could push his jeans and pants down. Just enough.

She leaned over him, capturing his lips in a kiss that forced a moan from deep in his chest. It bubbled up and into the room. Her hand inched down between them, wrapping around his cock and squeezing slightly, rolling her thumb over the tip of him until he was stiff and moaning.

Her skin felt hot. On fire. Like the scant distance between them was burning her from the inside out.

“I want you,” he whispered, eyes dark and seeking as he gazed up at her from the floor.

“I’m right here,” she replied, her eyes fluttering closed as he placed his hands on her hips and slid them up her waist.

They disappeared under her blouse, his thumbs rolling over her nipples through her bra while she shifted into position, lining him up and sinking down. Her breath huffed out of her as she took him inside.

Her knees ached when she moved, but the sweet stretch that she’d grown so fond of was perfect. It was always perfect.

His mouth fell open and he exhaled loudly, thumbs raking over her tits. The harsh rasp of the lace against her nipples was so good. Sansa shifted so her clit would rub against him with every downward movement. The ache was so sharp, she was close in mere minutes.

That was fine. This wasn’t about stamina. It was about getting what she needed as soon as possible. They had plenty of time to drag this out later. They had so much later now.

It didn’t take her long to find release. Not with him groaning her name under her, his cock hard and stiff, pressing against the exact right places, the thought that when she let her head fall back, the ceiling she was looking at was _theirs_.

“Gods,” she groaned, “Theon… fuck…”

She stilled when she came down, leaning forward and letting Theon plant both feet on the ground and fuck up into her until he shuddered apart seconds later.

His seed was hot and wet, dripping out of her as she rose up off him and rolled to the side, reaching for a tissue to clean herself. She leaned back against the sofa, her leggings and knickers wound around one leg as she panted to catch her breath.

When she turned to look at him, she found him already gazing at her and she blushed. “You’re so lame,” she teased.

“You love it.”

“Help me, I do…”

Once her legs stopped shaking, she went to the bathroom to properly clean up and get dressed again, and when she emerged, he’d done the same. And was out in the kitchen staring at the back wall. “If we’re keeping this place… what do you think about turning this back half into a sunroom? That porch isn’t big enough to do anything with. And we were already thinking about building a patio for grilling and such.”

“I think if we have a wall of windows, we’re going to have to be careful about how much skin we bare for the neighbors…” she stated.

“A sunroom _and_ a privacy hedge…” he added, winking over at her.

“Sounds lovely,” she said, taking a seat at the breakfast nook. “Do you want to start drawing up the plans for that?”

He shook his head. “Nah, I think we should celebrate.”

“Wasn’t that what we just did in the living room?”

He chuckled. “I mean, yeah. But I thought we could have people over. To _ours_.”

“We’ve had people over before.”

“Not when it was definitely ours, though…” When he looked at her, she knew she was going to say yes. How could she not? And to be fair, she wanted everyone to know as well.

“I can run-up to the store and get burgers or something?” she offered.

“I’ll go. And we can get steaks,” he countered. “We can ask everyone to bring something then.”

“Who are we inviting?”

“Robb, Marg, Jon, Ygritte… Arya and Gendry… wanna call your parents too?”

“My parents?” Sansa asked, laughing. “We’ve never had my mother over.”

“I know. But wouldn’t this be a good time for that?” His grin was cheeky. He never enjoyed spending time with her mother.

“She’s going to have kittens on the new linoleum,” Sansa muttered under her breath.

“Good,” Theon said, winking. “Do you want to call everyone, or should I?”

“I’ll do it. I can call,” she said, smiling.

“You sure?” he asked.

“I’ll call,” she assured him. “It’s no problem. I’m sure everyone will be here in a few hours.”

“To our house?” he repeated, sounding as if he really enjoyed saying it.

She had to agree. It sounded lovely. And she knew just who to call first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check my profile on here for my prompt form link. If you like how I write and would like to request something, use the form I have linked on my profile. <3 Thanks again for reading, y'all have a great one! <3

**Author's Note:**

> 


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